


The Menagerie

by fine_feathered



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fine_feathered/pseuds/fine_feathered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monsters, angels, demons and all of the creatures that go bump in the night are no secret. In fact, they're rare and many desire to see them. The Menagerie accommodates that. The Menagerie is a freak show and a circus all wrapped up into one that shows off its collection of creatures all across America.</p><p>Castiel is one of the last angels left on Earth and he's lost all hope of ever escaping The Menagerie. That changes one day when a new exhibit comes, Dean Winchester. But is the Hunter turned performer really what he seems, and what does he want from Castiel? </p><p>And can they really escape from the clutches of The Menagerie?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for the DCBB 2013. My artist was the lovely Drei (lionstiel/alt69) and the beautiful art for the fic can be found [here](http://alt69.livejournal.com/21496.html).  
> Thank you also to Katya for editing and Marple Juice for the [PDF](http://www.mediafire.com/download/qi4jhvlg26h7z1k/The+Menagerie+-+Fine_Feathered+%26+Alt69.pdf) and [Epub](http://www.mediafire.com/download/ryu6sf8u5xxkg3k/The_Menagerie_-_Fine_Feathered_%26_Alt69.epub)!  
> Useful critique and comments are greatly appreciated.

**_200 B.C_ ** _(BEFORE CONTACT)_   
  


_The specific day has long been lost in the annals of history; a mere year is provided in the mythos of Lucifer’s uprising and the first contact humanity had with angels._

_But on that lost day the sky was the colour of blood, as fire bathed the long golden grasses and pastures._

_  
The ground was onyx with ash and the air reeked of burning flesh. The noise that pervaded that air were the screams to whom that flesh belonged._

_Deep rivers boiled to the point where no water remained; the seas and oceans lashed the shorelines as waterspouts danced like dragons and licked the shorelines._

_It was in that apocalyptic vision that the angels descended._

_  
At first humanity thought that the golden lights, wavelengths of celestial intent, were new harbingers of doom, with their silver swords and gleaming armour._

_Yet they drove the demons from the land and from the sky the treacherous fallen angels, then into the Earth itself they locked away Lucifer._

_The battle raged for 200 years and at the end of it, Humanity wept with joy despite the blood that soaked their feet and thanked the angelic host that delivered them from Lucifer’s wrath._

_At that final battle Humanity’s new era began: After Defeat. Lucifer had been banished and Heaven was triumphant._

**_1 A.D_ ** _(After Defeat)_

_Castiel perched on the mountain’s edge as he looked down into the wasteland of his Father’s creation. His skin sang with pain, singed with fire and battered with the war hammers and morning stars that the demonic horde had favoured. The wind cooled his cheeks as he watched the black mass of demons scatter, leaderless. Even now the memory of his once glorious brother’s screams resounded in him. As he shuddered at the remembrance, his plate armour reflected the sun like the surface a frozen lake._

_“Castiel, you fought well today.”_

_Castiel hurriedly pushed himself up onto his feet, eyes widening as he looked upon the golden visage of his most glorious of brothers. “Michael,” He breathed out, “You do me a great honour.”_

_Michael sheathed his flaming sword in a scabbard that moved and shone like bright sunlight. “I will be giving you your own Garrison. Although, I know you will miss Anael’s leadership.”_

_Castiel ducked his head in a bow, surprised. “Thank you….but-“_

_Michael raised a dark eyebrow, “But?”_

_The blue of Castiel’s eyes met the stormy greens of Michael’s for the first time since they had arrived on Earth, “We have been here for many years now and we are now victorious.”_

_Castiel gestured to the demonic army at the foot of the mountain that dotted the blackened landscape, “The demonic army has been crippled, they will never amass in such terrible numbers again, and Lucifer, he has been cast into the Pit.”_

_At the mention of his brother’s name Michael averted his gaze. Castiel swallowed, “I am sorry.”_

_Raising a hand, Michael cut Castiel short, “No, you speak only the truth. So what is your point brother?”_

_“That surely we must now be returning to Heaven? Humanity will survive, thrive from how fond they are of copulation.” The last word was spoken with a hint of derision._

_Michael’s expression darkened marginally in the downward pull of his lips. “We need to teach them how to defend themselves and if necessary give them the tools to do so. Our work has only just begun. Heaven can wait, it is well guarded.”_

_Castiel’s shoulders slumped at the prospect. “Yes Michael.”_

_“Your own skills both on the battlefield and charm crafting will be invaluable to the tasks ahead.” Michael stole a step closer and laid his golden gauntlet on Castiel’s shoulder._

_The weight quickly disappeared in conjunction with the sound of massive wings beating. Castiel turned slightly to see the space where Michael had been was now empty._

_He slipped off his gauntlet and let it drop to the dusty ground. Castiel massaged his temples, thick eyelashes beating with the attempt to stop the frustrated tears from being spilled. He had fought fiercely, burned away the black and smoky souls of the demons and ripped the wings from the fallen angels. He had ignored numerous injuries, spells and curses lobbed at him all in the pursuit to return home._

_This world was a barren, twisted place, nothing but dust and ash. Castiel stood and looked over the precipice of his mountaintop perch. The remains of the human army sat huddled at the base. Castiel felt his lips curl into a snarl. They were poor warriors, nothing more than lambs led to the slaughter. They were not wanted on the battlefield, had been urged to leave, to be safe. Yet they had been persistent, they had fought alongside the heavenly host. They called themselves Hunters._

_Castiel bent over to scoop up his gauntlet, it did not fit like it used to. There were many bangs and scrapes that marred its appearance. The rest of his ice-like armour had fared better, within his capacity to restore. This though, required an expert._

_Castiel flared his wings; the great obsidian arches of feathers were visible for only a moment as he blinked away._

_Where Michael’s armour was like radiant sunlight, Anael’s was like quicksilver; it hugged her lithe, muscled frame and rippled like water disturbed by a breeze. She smiled and shifted to face him, having sensed Castiel’s arrival._

_“Castiel, I heard I am to lose you. Commanding your own Garrison; you should be happy.” Anael took the gauntlet proffered to her, sweeping her hand across it to begin the process of restoration. Tiny snowflakes spread across the surface to smooth the imperfections._

_“I would be happier if we could return home. Who knows how long it will be before humanity is deemed fit enough to survive on their own. Why do we have to babysit these…these hatchlings? We have fought for them for over 200 years, surely we can go home now.”_

_Anael’s smile was kind but full of pity as she handed back the restored gauntlet. Castiel slipped it back on, feeling its calming chill against his skin._

_“We are not babysitting them Castiel, we are guiding them. How many have you even spoken to in the past 200 years?”_

_Castiel balked at the question, “A few, I assure you.”_

_Anael tucked a wayward lock of red hair behind her ear, “I mean more than ‘you are not needed here’ or the many times I heard you bark ‘move’ during battles.”_

_Castiel raised his chin defiantly; “I see no purpose in it. I don’t hate them, nothing like Lucifer and that ilk. I am obedient to my orders and I always will be. I just…need more time, perhaps.”_

_At that Anael smiled, “We will have plenty of that and the humans have begun to call me Anna, I would like it if you did the same.”_

_Castiel shook his head but he smiled too, a small, hesitant one, “Letting them twist your name so quickly? Fine, Anna it is.”_

_Anna nodded her thanks and was about to turn away when Castiel grabbed her arm, stopping her mid-stride. She raised a brow and watched as Castiel knelt before her to pluck a pebble from the ground. Castiel stood and clasped the pebble tightly between his palms. He then put his lips to the cool hardness of his armour and blew into his cupped hands. His eyes flared bright sapphire as he breathed Grace into the rock._

_With a grunt he squeezed it tightly, and then, slowly with a careful reverence he opened his hands. In it laid a chain made of rose gold, where the links writhed into vine like shapes and its surface burned with its sheen. Anna’s eyes widened at the sight. “It is your most beautiful charm yet.”_

_Castiel’s cheeks coloured slightly at the compliment, “It is for you, as thanks for leading me and looking after me on the battlefield. This charm requires only a drop of your blood and henceforth no one but you will wear it and know of its properties.”_

_Anna yanked off her gauntlet and tucked it under her armpit. Withdrawing the ornate silver dagger from its sheath on his hip Castiel held it out for Anna, where she pressed the tip of her finger onto the blade’s sharp edge. A droplet of the angel’s blood rolled down the curve and Castiel angled the blade over the chain. Once the drop hit it, the metal sizzled and smoke curled from the metal. Anna’s pale fingers hovered over the necklace. “And its properties are?”_

_“You will never succumb to the cold, nor will your flesh burn under fire. It is an elemental protection charm.”_

_Finally, Anna’s fingers smoothed over the chain. She sighed as she picked it up and looped it over her head. The warm gold shone all the more brightly against her quicksilver armour. Anna threw her arms around Castiel’s shoulders and she buried her nose into his neck. “Thank you my brother, I will miss you.”_

_Castiel’s laughter rumbled against her, “I will miss you too.”_

_When Anna pulled away another angel stood next to them, the angel’s polished onyx armour matched his dark skin. “Hello Castiel.”_

_“Uriel.” Castiel replied with a polite dip of his head._

_“I have been appointed your aide and right hand. As such I am to take you to your new Garrison.”_

_Castiel’s heart fluttered with nervous anticipation as he followed behind Uriel, through the gathering of angels. In places the ground still smoldered with Hell fire, so fresh was the victory._

_Amidst the angels were a few simple tents and lean-tos, occupied mostly by the human warriors injured in the battle. Castiel averted his gaze from the raw bloody wounds and twisted limbs that most of the humans sported. Many would not survive; even now Castiel shivered as he felt souls being tugged from their bodies by the legions of Reapers that swept - invisible, but felt - amongst the casualties._

_Castiel stepped around another angel, who was busying herself as she repaired her long curved spear, when a feeble grip latched onto his wrist. Castiel turned to face the young human who had reached out to him. A white bandage covered his eyes, which was flecked with dried scabs and patches of fresh blood. Dark smudges radiated out from beneath the stark line of linen. “Please help me, I can’t see…”_

_Uriel glanced over his shoulder, “Leave him be Castiel, the healers will do what they can for him.”_

_The grip tightened on him, though Castiel saw it in the white knuckled grip rather than felt it through his armour. Castiel tilted his head as the human licked his lips and spoke again. “Is there nothing you can do for me?”_

_“I am a warrior and charm maker, not a healer.”_

_Uriel pivoted on his heel and heaved out a sigh, “Don’t indulge the wretch, in a day or so his injury will be healed by one of our brethren, there is no need to stop here.”_

_At hearing those words the human visibly shivered, the fear on his skin was palpable. The man let his hand slip from Castiel, his hope for a  healing gone. Castiel took a step away and but guilt made him hesitate.  
After all, what trouble was it really to soothe this man, to have him retain his faith in the compassion of angels?_

_Castiel raised his hand, “This will only take a moment Uriel.”_

_The creases of pain that lined the man’s face smoothed with his words, “Thank you.” He murmured and his gratitude was palpable in those words. Castiel knelt next to the man’s pallet. With a gentle hand he slipped the linen from the man’s face. Surprise bloomed in Castiel, the man still retained his eyes, in contrast to his expectation to see a twin set of sunken dark holes. “I can heal this type of injury.”_

_The man let out a shuddering breath and tears flowed over his cheeks. “Thank you.”_

_“It is no trouble, close your eyes.” He tugged off his gauntlet once more. The man complied and relaxed against his bedding. Sucking in a breath Castiel laid his fingertips over the man’s eyelids and channeled his Grace, he closed his eyes in order to form and shape his power, mold it into the delicate curving tendrils required of healing._

_A moment passed and Castiel removed his fingers. The man’s eyes fluttered open, which revealed his warm green eyes. The man grinned as he sat up and he looked at his hands and then to Castiel’s face. The man’s gaze was affectionate and thankful; Castiel felt the emotions as surely as a firm embrace. “How can I ever thank you?”_

_“There is no need.” Castiel breathed out, taken aback by the man’s open emotions._

_The healed man reached out his hand again and took his wrist. “Then at least tell me your name, so I can pray to you.”_

_“Castiel…and I will hear your prayers loudest on Thursdays.”_

_The man nodded, “Thank you Castiel.”_

_Castiel left the man and with a quick glance over his shoulder he saw him sit up and stare after him. Never had he been prayed to before, no human had showed him any such affection.  
Perhaps Anna was right, he could learn to genuinely like these hairless apes. Perhaps._

 

_2013 A.D (After Defeat)_

 

Castiel jolted awake, his breath came heavy and laboured. He had not dreamed in years. He had done his best to shield himself from such things. Sleep itself was rare. There were tears at the corners of his eyes and they scorched him with the need to be shed. Instead, he blinked them away. It was painful, cruel, to remember the past.

 

The chains on his wings clinked as he tried his best to stretch his wings in the cramped space of his travelling cage.

 

Though the past was painful it also reminded him how false these humans were, how they were beyond saving and that they were not worthy of his help or compassion. 

 

Through the bars of his cell he could only see the metal interior of the truck he was in, though he could tell the engine had stopped. Castiel curled in on himself completely uncaring as to where these humans had taken him to now. All human cities and towns looked the same, smelt the same and sounded the same. This one would be no different. The back door of the truck creaked open and the bright morning sunshine dazzled Castiel’s eyes as he glanced up. The man who came and unlocked his cage did so in silence. They had done this for many years and Castiel knew what to do. With careful, stiff movement Castiel half crawled half stepped out of his confinement and off the back of the truck. He wondered why the humans bothered with the cage in transit; he was practically powerless now.  When the paying customers came around to view the myriad of creatures, he could understand it to a degree. They wanted the customers to be excited and to see what they expected, and that was a dangerous being wrapped in chains like a performing bear.

 

The man who had unlocked his cage brushed past him with a glare. His name was Gordon and Castiel considered himself lucky to only gain his dislike rather than the hatred he harbored for the demons and vampires The Menagerie sometimes held.

 

Which was particularly poignant as Gordon strode towards a new delivery. Castiel stretched his wings as far as the cold heavy chains would allow as he watched the new man. Even with his Grace locked and chained deep inside of himself he could still smell the stench of Hell, the vile brimstone and copper of blood oozing from the dark soul. It was not a particularly potent scent, almost as though he were a man possessed, though Castiel knew that was also untrue. He stole a step closer to gain a better look at the man. He was very tall and muscular but that was at odds with his soft hazel eyes that were wet with tears. The man ran a hand through his hair and the action drew Castiel’s attention to the silver bangle fastened around the man’s wrist. On the cuff was the stark black demonic biding sigils and spells designed to keep the man close to The Menagerie.

 

That was what they called this place. The Menagerie. The word made Castiel’s stomach turn. It sounded fun, interesting – he supposed to some it was both. He clenched his fists, reached deep for his Grace but felt only a faint tremor of it.

 

Castiel let loose a sigh and wandered the perimeter of the grounds that The Menagerie had hired for the next few days. It was flat, muddy and lifeless. All around Castiel there was a flurry of activity as tents were set up and popcorn machines and lighting equipment were pulled out of the cars and trucks. Every one of the workers who passed him didn’t spare him a glance. He was an old but respected antique here.

 

Castiel found a wooden chair that had been put aside at the edge of the activity and sat himself down on it.

 

“You gonna behave today, or are we going to have to put you in your cage?”

 

Castiel looked up into Gordon’s smug face, his dark brown eyes bright with amusement.

 

“What do you mean?” He replied, cold.

 

“Well angel, we got a demon now. The last one we had you managed to kill after a week of storing up bits of your go juice and then letting it all out at once. We didn’t even know you could do that.” Gordon sounded almost impressed, pleased even.

 

“I got lucky…but I learnt my lesson.” Subconsciously, as Castiel spoke he touched the cool loops of silver around his wrists, marked with powerful Enochian and demonic magic.

 

“Yeah well, play nice with him.” At that Gordon gave him a little wave and moved to help Charlie move some heavy wooden benches.

 

Castiel stilled as he sensed the new demonic presence draw closer to him and from the corner of his eye he could see the man as he tentatively approached him.

 

“I’ve…I’ve never seen an angel before.”

 

Castiel flicked his gaze over to him. “And I have never seen such a pathetically weak and strange demon before.”

 

The man smiled at that and he drew closer to hold out his hand. Castiel stared at it from where he sat, “Do you think that wise boy?”

 

“My name is Sam.”

 

Castiel pushed himself up from the chair and batted away Sam’s hand with a quick flick of his wrist. “I would never shake hands with a demon. Did they not tell you what I did to the last demon here? I smote him, slowly, with the limited power at my disposal. Come closer, vermin, so I can make your eyes turn to jelly in yourskull. For that is in my nature.”

 

Castiel thrummed with a tempered victory as he watched Sam’s face drain of colour, though it irked him that he had to look _up_ at the tall demon.

 

“I’m…I’m not actually a demon though.” Sam eked out as he averted his gaze.

 

“You are not a man possessed yet it is obvious to my senses that you are _demonic_ in some strange way. Count yourself lucky that you are here Sam. If not for The Menagerie you would have been killed by Hunters.”

 

Sam huffed out a bitter laugh and met Castiel’s gaze once more, “Trust me, you’re just as lucky as me. The Hunter that I knew, he would have relished the chance to deep-fry your wings. He doesn’t like angels very much.”

 

Castiel quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as he let Sam walk away. After all, he hadn’t accumulated sufficient power yet to destroy the demon. Maybe he hadn’t learnt his lesson after all.

 

+++

 

Sam’s hands shook from the confrontation, he had always been sensitive to the energies that some monsters or creatures emitted, and the bridled energy he felt from Castiel had struck him with terror. Never before had he so clearly understood the expression of catching a storm in a butterfly net, for that was what Castiel was.

 

Sam tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. He only hoped that he was long dead before Castiel managed to break free from his restraints. He had been given his own tent amidst the chaos; the fact that HUNTER - the small, relatively clandestine organisation that coordinated Hunters and helped them find their quarries- had brought him here did seem to have some privileges. After all, he had been part of the organisation until a few years ago. He had left to pursue supernatural creature’s rights in the courtroom but his brother, well; he was still one of the best Hunters out there.

 

Sam stepped through the flaps of his red tent. The strong smell of dust and damp permeated the thick canvas. At the back there was a wooden cot with a few blankets and it was on this that Sam sat down and cradled his head in his hands. His stomach ached with loss, worry and despair, which overrode how hungry he was. It had been days since he had eaten, but the very thought of it had his throat tighten.

 

He wondered if Dean would come and see him before The Menagerie moved on. Sam slipped under the sheets, but kept his jacket and his shoes on, as though he were ready to move on as quickly as possible again – to run away.

 

That thought cloyed his mind as he fell asleep. He saw a great cavern that stretched on, with walls coated in slimy mildew. It echoed with each of his footsteps as he walked and walked and walked and walked endlessly. When he woke up he realised that the loud sonorous booms of his footsteps had been the racings of his heart.

 

Sam sat up and looked around his tent and noticed a few lights shining through the thick red canvas.

 

When he stepped outside it was early morning. The cool autumn air bit colour into his cheeks as he strode through the crowd of employees, busy in the early morning as they set up the last of the tents. A girl glanced up as he walked by her, “Hey there, you a new worker?”

 

Sam huffed out a laugh and then raised his wrists to show the cuffs that bound him; “Not exactly.”

 

The colour leeched out of her skin, “You the new demon?”

 

Sam resisted the urge to argue; no he wasn’t a demon, just infected with demon blood thank you very much. But he swallowed the retort, “I guess. I got here early yesterday, my name’s Sam.”

 

The girl nodded and tucked a strand of copper hair behind the shell of her ear. She tried her best at a smile as she held out her hand, “Charlie Bradbury. I’ve been working here for nearly a year now. Want me to show you around?”

 

Sam nodded and took her hand, his larger one nearly enveloping Charlie’s entirely and he could feel the slight tremor of fear that ran through her. “That would be great, Gordon only showed me the mess and bathroom areas before he ran off.”

 

Charlie slid her hand out from Sam’s grip and quickly hid her hand into her jeans pocket, “Well, those are the basics anyway. How about I start off by showing you the employee areas and performance tents, and then maybe the other monsters…or, exhibits…that sounds just as bad doesn’t it?”

 

Smiling, Sam gestured for Charlie to lead the way, which she hurried to do. The employee’s tents were a haphazard collection that ranged from long rectangles for communal eating to tiny circular tents for personal accommodation. Not one of the employee tents were personalized, except for a daffodil colored one that had stencils of crowns and swords stitched onto the panels. Charlie pointed to it proudly. “That baby is mine.”

 

“The bright yellow one?” Sam asked with a raised brow. With an insulted squeak Charlie shoved at Sam’s arm, “It’s gold!”

 

“But why are the rest so plain?”

 

Charlie cooled down and wrapped her arms around herself, “The truth is, no one likes working here. It’s dangerous, scary. No offence,” She added hurriedly to which Sam benignly shrugged, “I’ve only been here so long because the money is good and I want to set up my own video game company, specializing in MMORPG.”

 

Sam let the strange acronym fly him by, “But I heard that Gordon has been here for years.”

 

“Yeah he has, that’s his tent down there.”

 

Sam let out a whistle. The tent was huge, a pentagon made of black canvas with a myriad of religious and occult symbols painted, stitched and chalked onto the sides.

 

Charlie leaned in close, “Personally, I think he’s a whack job, so do your best to keep away from him. I don’t know why he’s here but I do know he hates demons and vampires.”

 

Sam swallowed around the knot of tension in his throat as he briefly wondered about what Gordon would think of him, drinking demon blood.

 

“Okay, let’s move on to the performance tents shall we.” Charlie weaved her way out of the mess of employee’s tents and made her way to the ‘front’ of the field, following the muddy ruts. The performance tents were by far the largest, with the centre one being at least twice the size of any other Sam had seen. It was striped with red and white, typical circus fare, but at its top was a huge bulb of light that shone, and like a snow globe thousands of metallic flakes whirled around the illuminated words, ‘The Menagerie’.

 

Charlie noticed his attention and regarded the snow globe with a fond expression. “When that baby lights up tomorrow night you’ll see it from miles away. It’s really something…but causes a lot of problems with the locals complaining about light pollution.”

 

Maybe at another time Sam could have appreciated the curling, delicate letters in the enormous globe or the way that the glass was so thin it was nearly invisible or the way the metallic flakes tumbled prettily together, but at that moment he felt his stomach turn. It was gaudy, commercial and soulless.

 

“So this is the main performance tent, and these smaller ones are for?” Sam turned his back on the main one and looked to the others. The second biggest was pure white and without blemish, even though it rested on the muddy ground. When he squinted at it, there was the faint hint of blue Enochian scrawls. “These are for the private showings. If a creature is too dangerous to control, can’t really perform, or is particularly rare, customers pay a premium or are invited to attend.”

 

Charlie placed a hand on the white tent, “This one is Castiel’s performance tent. I’ve only been inside twice. Not many people can afford to watch or get invited to see Castiel perform. I don’t even know what he does.”

 

Sam rubbed the back of his neck, “Guess I won’t ever see it huh?”

 

Charlie bit out a laugh, unintentionally scathing, “I think he’d try to burn you out of your body.”

 

Sam laughed along, the sound forced and fake. Ever since he was little he wanted to meet an angel, despite his brother’s and father’s hate for them. “Yeah, I think he’d like to do that. So, if I was going to perform, where would I go?”

 

Charlie placed a finger on her lips and stared at Sam for a moment, “Demons aren’t very popular but seeing as you’re new and good looking, you’ll probably be a private viewing for the first couple of performances. After that, the main tent.” Charlie paused. “Say, what is it that you can do?”

 

“I get visions, but I can’t control them. I can do a little telekinesis…so I guess I’ll be doing that.” Sam swallowed down the lie; both abilities were equally unwieldy.

 

Charlie’s blue eyes lit up with glee, “That’s so cool! I also help plan some of the shows, so I’ll think of something easy for you to do and then work you up to some big objects.”

 

Sam‘s shoulders slumped, “Ah sure.”

 

Charlie didn’t seem to notice as she pointed across to the field to where Sam’s personal tent was set up. “Well, we’ll head back to where you should be staying. Your cuffs prevent you from wandering too far from The Menagerie, but it would be safer for you to stay around the monster’s area. We’ve had a few monsters attacked by people when they’ve wandered about.”

 

Sam mulled that over, “So why are you letting me and Castiel wander around? Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know in cages…not that I want that of course.” Sam quickly added.

 

Charlie shrugged. “Well most of the monsters are kept in cages but Crowley gives some special allowances to the sentient creatures, such as yourself and Castiel. It’s a little better for you guys…”

 

Charlie frowned as she slowly walked back, “But it wasn’t pretty when someone tried to attack Castiel, or so I heard. That was a few years before I got here. He was punished of course.”

 

At that moment a voice broke out, “Charlie! We need some help over here!”

 

Charlie jumped and whipped around to face a jumpy, squirrelly young man, “Oh, coming Andy.” Charlie smiled up at Sam, “It was real nice meeting you, and the other monsters are all lined up here, why don’t you take a look around.”

 

“Yeah sure.”

 

Charlie waved him goodbye whilst she smothered a yawn. Soon she disappeared around the edge of a tent.

 

Sam walked towards a dark green tent, one that upon closer inspection had the motif of scales running along its edges and the entrance was shaped like a horses head. Curiosity bloomed hot within him as he stepped inside. At first he was blind inside due to the sequestered darkness of the interior. He could hear a faint whirr that reminded him of a fish tank. Then, a light flicked on as he took another step inside.

 

Before him was an enormous tank filled with clear water. Inside it was a horse. The horse turned its dark eyes on him as its frilled legs beat against the water. Instead of hooves, it had huge emerald green fans that ballooned as it pushed against the water, swimming gracefully. Along its neck and back ran a fan that was punctuated every so often by a long curved spike. At the middle though, there was a break as though it had made room for a rider. Sam’s mouth dropped in wonder as he circled the tank of water, he saw its tail, or at least what he thought was the tail. It looked more like a bunch of thick deepwater kelp. Its ivory hued skin looked sticky under the harsh fluorescent lights that were set up around the outside of its tank.

The tank was set up on wheels and laid on the floor was a sign:

_The Kelpie._

 

Sam took a step back and looked up at the white water horse. Its eyes tracked his every movement, making his Hunter’s instincts scream at him to leave. Not one to ignore his instincts, Sam turned and left, the echo of water lapping and the lights shutting off sounding behind him.

 

There were many more tents that ran along, each supposedly with a different horrifying creature inside. Sam tilted his head up and looked into the sky. He was here, as one of them? A terrifying monster that haunted people’s nightmares…?


	2. The Demon's Brother

Dean sat in Sam’s empty room, the lights off, with only the street lamp outside illuminating the bedroom. Dean leaned back in the desk-chair and ran his thumb over the stack of work papers that had been left unfinished. All of Sam’s legal cases, his notes and half written speeches to improve the rights of supernatural beings would continue to lie here unfinished. And when the press found out what happened to Sam, they would ask about this work, Dean had no doubt. All of Sam’s work in the media fighting for change would be distorted into a demon conspiracy to lull people into a false sense of security.  Dean huffed out a humorless laugh. And people wondered why he didn’t watch the news.

 

Dean felt his stomach twist itself into a knot as he looked at the photo on the table with Sam and Jess. It brought back bitter, sorrowful memories. Dean flicked the frame down.

 

He had only just got back from HUNTER HQ, after being fully vetted out to make sure he wasn’t a demon as well. Even after a shower, he still felt dirty all over. The cherry on the cake was seeing all of the people he worked with on a daily basis look at him differently, think him a traitor and not the deadly efficient and merciless Hunter people used to think he was.

 

Subconsciously, Dean rolled the silver ring on his finger. His skin felt too tight, he was restless. Normally he would have found the nearest Hunt and iced the little bitch, but going back to HQ to pick up a Hunt was not on his agenda. Instead, Dean stood up and walked out. He skipped every second step as he made it to the front door and as an afterthought he scooped up the keys from the dish by the door.

 

The night was cold, mist pluming before his lips as he strode down the empty suburban street. He had never wanted to live in the suburbs - city or bust for him - but Sam had won him over when they jointly bought the house in Stanford. Dean stopped in the street and squeezed his eyes closed. He refused to believe that Sam’s best years would be the few they shared in Stanford. Dean would get him out of The Menagerie if it was the last thing he did. After all, he had promised to protect him from this kind of thing a long time ago.

 

_The sun shone bright and hot overhead, melting the icicle pops the brothers licked and slurped at as they sat on the balcony of their motel room. Dean watched as a car pulled out of a spot below their balcony. Sam happily swung his legs back and forth under the plastic garden chair._

_“When’s dad getting back?” Sam asked out of the blue._

_Dean looked at Sam from the corner of his eye as he licked the last few droplets from the wooden stick._

_“He said he should be back tomorrow evening.”_

_Sam nodded at that. “Dean, can you keep a secret from him?”_

_Dean’s brow furrowed, what could a 7 year old want to keep from their sole parent? But he’d do whatever Sam asked of him. “Yeah, of course Sammy, if you want me to.”_

_Sam nodded and licked the sugar from his cooled lips. “I think…I think I might be like Missouri or Pamela back at HQ.”_

_Dean stilled. “How so?” He asked, his voice hollow as trepidation began to swell inside him._

_“Well,” Sam began, “Sometimes I have these weird dreams and they come true. Like when dad went on that Hunt, I knew that he couldn’t save that young girl…I saw it.”  The Popsicle fell from Sam’s hand, landing with an audible splat against the cement floor. Little hitched breaths began as Sam tried his best to keep his tears at bay. “I don’t want to end up like Pamela or Missouri, they’re so sad all the time, stuck there, forced to use their powers until they pass out from the pain.”_

_Dean slipped out of his seat, a pit in his throat as he gripped Sam’s shoulders. “Look at me Sammy.” Tears streaked down Sam’s face and his lower lip trembled with his fear._

_“I’m not going to let that happen to you, ever. No one needs to know. I’m not going to tell dad and you’re not going to tell him. There’s no test, like holy water for a demon, for a psychic. So no one has to find out **ever**. Okay?”_

_Dean tightened his fingers for emphasis and waited until Sam nodded. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”_

_With a grin, Dean released his grip from his little brother’s shoulders. “No problem Sammy. You can tell me anything.”_

Dean shook himself out from his reverie and kept walking down the street. So what Sam wasn’t a psychic but infected with demon blood as it turned out? That still didn’t make him a demon, and instead of rescuing Sam from HUNTER, he’d be rescuing him from The Menagerie. Just a few small details were different. He didn’t know how long he walked, but he never saw another soul, until a dark shape loomed out at him from the centre of the road. Dean squinted at the figure that walked towards him. It appeared to be a man with broad shoulders and a long dark coat that fell past his knees.

 

Dean tensed and groped for the silver knife he kept at his belt. “Can I help you?” Dean asked as the man kept up his steady pace.

 

“Yes, you can,” came the deep baritone tenors of his voice. “We share a problem, which together we can fix.”

 

Under his breath Dean began to whisper Latin, the exorcism falling like liquid off his tongue. The only reaction to it was a derisive snort. “I’m not a demon Dean. Just like I know your brother isn’t a demon either…just infected with some tainted blood.”

 

Acidic bile washed against the back of Dean’s tongue. “Who the hell are you?”

 

The man kept away from the streetlights and the hood he wore was big enough to conceal his face. “It doesn’t matter. I can help you get your brother out of The Menagerie. I assume you want that.”

 

Dean let his fingers slip from the knife on his belt. It’s not like he had a plan and if this guy had one, it might be his best chance. “Yeah I do. So what do you want in return?” It didn’t matter who or what this man was, Dean could handle him.

 

The man interlaced his fingers in front of himself, steepled under the jut of his chin. “There’s an angel at The Menagerie, with private one-off viewings usually given by invitation. So the best way for you to get to this angel is to become an attraction at The Menagerie yourself as an exhibit.”

 

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair, “Sorry to disappoint you but the demon blood is my brother’s thing, not mine. I haven’t got a lick of the supernatural in my blood.”

 

The man reached into his pocket and from it he withdrew a platinum chain where a spherical gemstone was suspended from its centre. “This will allow you to pretend. This will give you a power, though it’s impossible to predict what it will be. Each person is different. But be warned, the power uses the energy from your soul, the more you use it, the closer you will come to death.”

 

Dean stared at the seemingly innocuous object. “Sounds lovely. So you want me to get this angel out in return for the necklace.”

 

“Which will also give you the opportunity to free your brother.”

 

Dean cut the air with his hand. “Is there an actual plan?”

 

The man shook his head. “That’s up to you to decide. I am merely giving you the means.”

 

“How can you trust me? I could just get out with my brother and leave the angel behind.”

 

The man crossed his arms over his chest, fist clenched around the necklace. “I have enchanted this charm. Only I can take it off. Even if you never used the power contained within it, it would only give you a year before it consumed your soul.”

 

“Okay then. Guess I’ll be getting this angel out as well as my brother huh?” Dean curled his fingers into tight balls, his nails cutting into his palms. There wasn’t much in the world that he hated more than angels and to have to rescue one, well that rubbed him the wrong way, made him feel wrong and dirty.

 

“That would be wise.” Once more the necklace was proffered. With a deep calming breath, Dean plucked the necklace from the leather-clad palm. He undid the fastening at the back and looped it around his neck. With only the slightest touch, the ends joined at his nape with an audible click.

 

“Good. The Menagerie will be here for a few days. I suggest you get your affairs in order tonight and then go to them tomorrow under the pretense of taking refuge from Hunters.”

 

Dean smirked. “Thought you said you didn’t have a plan.”

 

“I don’t. That was common sense.”

 

Dean had the childish impulse to repeat the words back in a high-pitched whiney voice but resisted it. “How will I find you when I’ve got the angel out?”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” With that, the man turned and wandered back the way he came, the night cocooning him from view in a matter of seconds.

“Well that wasn’t creepy at all.” Dean’s hand wandered up to the cool metal encircling his throat. The chain was short enough that the gemstone sat snug at the dip of his throat. He wandered back home, invigorated.

 

He was going to get Sam out, no matter the cost. If he couldn’t get the angel out like the stranger wanted, so be it. A year with Sam was better than Sam suffering alone and away from Dean. It was selfish, he knew that, but he couldn’t give a damn. He didn’t like angels; nobody did anymore. Historians liked to tell of glorious days thousands of years ago. When the angels came in droves to save humanity from the demonic hordes storming Earth, before giving humans the tools to do so for themselves in the future.

 

Dean clenched his jaw, remembering the stories he was told. Then, they all vanished, without a word or warning.

  
At first, it wasn’t so bad. There had been peace and prosperity- the Golden Age of humanity. All too soon however, it all crumbled away, giving way to two world wars. Humanity was confused, leaderless, with no angel in sight to save them from their own destruction. Everyone waited, eager for the flurry of wings to pull them out of the Pit once again, but the air remained poisoned with the stench of war. No angel had been seen since the days of old. No good angel anyway, it had been decades since the last fallen angel had been reported. The only he one he had seen was when he was a child as he gazed back at his burning home…

 

So the fact there was an angel still on Earth came as a surprise. There were rumours of such things but Dean never gave them much stock. Dean chewed the inside of his cheek ‘til the flesh was tender. The only explanation he could think of was that the angel must have fallen, and the only thing worse than an angel, was a fallen one. Lower than demons, wendigos, and poltergeists. The damned creature deserved to stay at The Menagerie.

 

When Dean stepped back into his and Sam’s house, he flicked on the lights. He kept the pad of his thumb on the bead and rubbed it in hard small circles. How was he supposed to use the damn thing?

 

He let his thumb slip from the bead as he walked into the kitchen. Turning on the coffee maker, Dean slumped down at the kitchen table. There was a loaf of bread and a serrated knife, left there from the morning that HUNTER had coming knocking at their door.

 

Dean reached over to the knife and cut himself off a piece, chewing through the hard crust that had gone stale. The coffee pot burbled away as he kept chewing. Pain sliced through his cheek and Dean swallowed before he let out a curse. He put a finger in his mouth to gently prod at the torn skin. When he pulled it out, blood and saliva glistened on his fingertip. He put his tongue to the cut…but didn’t find it. He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek; he could still taste the copper, but the pain and the cut were gone.

 

Immediately Dean stood up and disappeared into the small downstairs bathroom. He turned the light on and crossed over to the white porcelain sink. From there, he pulled at the corner of his lip and angled his head. There was no puffy and red skin. Everything was normal, as if he had never bitten himself. Dean’s green eyes widened in the mirror and he clutched at the necklace. “I got the lamest power Sammy.”

+++

 

The mud clung to his brown boots. He was jittery from too much bad coffee and not enough sleep. Dean looked around at the myriad of tents that dotted the landscapes. They ranged in shape, size and colours, from square purple and pink striped tents to a tent made to look like a fish with a gaping mouth for its entrance.

 

Dean hitched up the collar of his jacket. He hoped that a voluntary admission into The Menagerie would gain him the favour of the owner, a man he could find nothing about in his hours of research on the web last night. All that he knew about The Menagerie were the obvious things; it collected and displayed a range of supernatural creatures, was run by the McLeod family for the past 200 years, moved location every week, and that it was hugely successful, drawing crowds from all around the world.

 

Dean steeled himself as he approached the largest tent. Many of the workers gave him curious glances and more than a few grinned and whispered amongst each other when they noted his duffel. It was unusual to come to The Menagerie willingly, but not unheard of. It was a life on the run from Hunters or a life of imprisonment. He parted the flap of the black tent and stepped inside. His breath was robbed from him when he saw the interior. From the apex hung a wrought iron chandelier, light bulbs dotting the end of the sharp points and the bulbs themselves glowed an eldritch crimson. The floor was covered with layer upon layer of plush, thick rugs, which kept the smell of soil and damp out from the cozy interior. Furniture dotted the area, with grand plush armchairs littered about in clusters. At the very back of the tent Dean spied a long onyx table.

 

“Uh, Mr McLeod?” Dean called into the shadowy room.

 

“I prefer Crowley.”

 

At his side appeared a portly figure, lips pulled into an easy smile. “Here to make a deal I presume?” Crowley’s accent was a rich British drawl and his immaculately tailored suit and dark red tie fitted in perfectly with the theme of the room.

 

Dean mirrored Crowley’s predatory smile. “How’d you guess?”

 

Crowley shrugged as he wandered over to his highly polished desk. “You get a knack for these things darling. Whiskey?” Without waiting for an answer Crowley poured two glasses full of the amber liquid.

 

Dean dropped his bag to take a glass. Without hesitation, he put it to his lips and took a liberal swallow. It was good stuff, almost a shame to waste it on him with how he was drinking it like water. But the liquor warmed a path down his throat and straight into his empty stomach.

 

“So, what are you then?”

 

Dean licked his lips. “Aren’t you going to ask me my name first?”

 

Crowley bowed his head slightly. “Of course, how rude of me. Your name?”

 

“Dean, Dean Winchester.”

 

At that, Crowley raised a brow and used his glass of whiskey to gesture at Dean. “You’re the brother of that demon I got yesterday?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“So, are you a demon too Dean? Because I only need one of every species you know.”

 

Dean shook his head and drained the rest of his whiskey from his glass. He breathed out a satisfied sigh and then with his other hand withdrew a small pocketknife. He flicked out the blade and held up the sharp silver edge to the red light. Crowley tensed slightly, shoulders a rigid line as he stared at the knife.

 

“Nah, I think I’m more interesting, and so do the Hunters.” With that said Dean pushed up the sleeve of his jacket and plaid shirt and then pressed the blade to his forearm. It cut deep, with blood immediately springing forth and dripping from the neat cut. Dean waited only moments before the cut began to pull itself back together with a glowing azure light.

 

With his palm, Dean wiped away the blood and held up his arm for Crowley’s wide eyes. “See? Now tell me Crowley, what violence loving human wouldn’t wanna pay a buck to see a man mend broken bones and burns huh?”

 

Crowley grinned. “I see your point.”

 

With unease curling ever tighter about his heart, Dean held out his hand. “Then we have a deal? You’ll let me stay here with my brother, safe from the Hunters, in return for me being a part of your show?”

 

Crowley’s warm hand grasped Dean’s and with a firm grip he shook it, but held on as his dark eyes leered menacingly into Dean’s. “I look forward to it. It was good doing business with you.” Finally Crowley let go and Dean wiped his hand on the back of his jeans.

 

“Now, it’s required that you wear these pretty little things.” As Crowley spoke he moved over behind his desk and crouched down low behind it. Dean peered down and could just about make out a large safe in the shadows. There were a few clicks and turns of the black dial and then from within the inner pocket of his tailored jacket Crowley withdrew a delicate gold key. Along its serrated teeth there were tiny black marks etched into the metal. He slotted the key into the safe and then opened it. Inside, there were dozens upon dozens of polished cuffs and stacks of wooden boxes with strange symbols on their sides. From his time Hunting, Dean recognised a few. There was Enochian, hoodoo, Egyptian hieroglyphs…and that’s all the time Dean had as the door swung shut again.

 

Crowley was grinning from ear to ear, smug as a cat with a saucer of cream as he held up two of the silver cuffs. “Now darling, I need a drop of your blood on each of these.”

 

Dean shrugged and pulled out his pocketknife and with a careful pressure, he cut the tip of his index finger. He left two red smudges on both and seemingly satisfied Crowley nodded and slipped them over Dean’s hands.

 

All of a sudden, he was burning; intense heat and pressure had Dean on his knees as the cuffs welded themselves to his flesh. He bit back a scream as he felt his skin sizzle and blood boil. When faint curls of smoke rose with the smell of his flesh, he turned his head away with a grimace.

 

Though his eyes still watered with the pain, he looked at the cuffs. They were molded to his flesh and the imprints of his wrist bones were visible through the metal. Stranger still were the glowing red symbols that flared on the metal.

 

Crowley offered him a hand but Dean batted it away as he stood on his weak knees. “Give a guy some warning next time.” Dean barked out as he stared at the symbols that began to fade away.

 

“Just a little security for me. That little spot of blood magic will ensure you won’t run away and will do as I say.”

 

Dean huffed. “So, can I at least keep my stuff?”

 

Crowley raised a finger. “I’ll be taking your pocketknife and any other weapons you might have. Normally, I don’t allow the new additions to keep personal belongings,” Crowley paused here for dramatic effect, voice lowered a notch, “Makes the transition more difficult you see, but,” Crowley’s voice rose again, as though he had finished revealing a secret, “I’m doing this on good faith. Behave and you get rewarded. Misbehave and you get punished, severely.”

 

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine as he handed over his pocketknife; he didn’t doubt the truth of his words. “Thanks, I guess.” Dean mumbled as he took a step back and picked up his duffle bag.

 

“The tents for the ‘performers’ are at the very end of the western side of the field. Go find your brother he has been briefed on how things run here. You can share his tent. Get settled in, in a couple of days you’ll have your first performance.”

 

Dean nodded at Crowley and pushed his way through the heavy flaps of the tent. The sky was low and grey, air crisp with the promise of a storm. He didn’t care about that though, or the fact that he might be trapped here. Instead he found it hard to smother a grin as he walked towards the west end of the field. All thoughts of the two deals he had made were far out of reach in his mind.

 

Instead there was just one person on his mind and he soon saw that tall man with the freakishly long hair.  “Sammy.”

Sam stiffened and with a slow half circle, he turned around. “Dean?”

 

Before Sam could react past his obvious shock Dean had flung his arms around his shoulders. They said nothing, Dean closed his eyes and breathed in the presence of his brother and held onto him as if to say, ‘I’m sorry I failed you, I won’t leave you again.’

 

Sam didn’t say anything but Dean could feel the silent sobs ripping through him. “We’re going to get out.” Dean murmured into his brother’s ear.

 

Sam didn’t ask how, or tell Dean how stupid he was getting himself in here, or even question how it was that he was here at all. In that moment, Sam felt safe again and he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. He wasn’t alone.

 

After one final squeeze of his arms Dean let go and stepped back. His trained eyes took in the minutiae of details that had changed about Sam since he had come to The Menagerie. There were dark rings about his eyes, a red inflamed tinge to the whites of his eyes and the obvious silver cuffs he wore. Although HUNTER had only taken Sam a few days ago, and he had been at The Menagerie only a day, the little changes were obvious.

 

“So I bet the food here sucks huh?”

 

Sam rubbed at his sore eyes, “Dean what the hell are you doing here? How did you…” Sam’s voice trailed off as his attention was caught by something behind Dean. Dean followed his gaze and glanced over his shoulder.

 

An angel was there, the first he had seen in years. His wings were enormous, even with the constricting iron chains that bound them to his back. He wore a simple pair of black trousers and a white button down shirt. His penetrating blue eyes were staring back at Dean, chapped lips parted slightly. The angel blinked and the strange magnetism afforded by his stare was broken, which also allowed Dean to blink. There was a whisper of feathers as the angel’s wings twitched and his gaze flicked back and forth between Sam and Dean.

 

Sam licked his lips, heart speeding up a beat. “Castiel, this is my brother Dean.”

 

The angel’s lips thinned with distaste. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Understand what exactly?” If Dean’s voice was a little rough, no one commented on it.

 

Castiel folded his arms over his chest. “How someone with an angel’s blessing could be associated with a demon.”

 

Dean’s hand shot to his necklace and when Castiel saw it he frowned. Immediately Dean drew away his hand as though burned, the angel’s gaze moving with it. That must have been what the necklace was, one of the charms angels had given humans after the war thousands of years ago, to help them against monsters.

 

Sam laid a hand down on Dean’s shoulder, “Come on, I’ll show you around and we can talk.”

 

Castiel watched them disappear, his mouth dry. He had met Dean before, many years ago.


	3. Pre-Show Jitters

Castiel dreamed of a time not so long ago for him. There were periods of his existence where years became fleeting but seconds and milliseconds became decades. Humans did not truly understand time and its intricacies like angels do. But he dreamed of a memory made three decades ago, the one that contained Dean.

 

_The bars pushed against his back, made lines that ached along the edges of his spine as he leaned against the small cage. He had ‘misbehaved’ had struck out at a paying customer. If only he had been able to reach just a little more of his Grace, the man would have died at his hand. Castiel looked up at the reinforced wooden ceiling above him; it seemed he still held onto his pride after all. Anna would have disapproved. Castiel batted the thought away as it gave a painful twinge to his heart._

_Instead he stared vacantly out at the non-descript gravel and dusty ground that The Menagerie had landed on this time. He blinked and although it seemed only a second had passed, several minutes had instead.  Three young boys stood in front of Castiel and they stared in open awe at him, gestured to his wings and looked curiously at the chains and cuffs that bound him. Castiel glanced to the side, no employees were around to usher them away from the out of bounds area._

_Castiel closed his eyes, the very presence of humans, especially young ones with their shrill voices made him maudlin. His blue eyes flicked open again when there was a metallic clang. The trio of boys had picked up handfuls of tiny stones. They glanced mischievously amongst themselves.  The tallest of the group raised his hand and lobbed one at the cage, this time, instead of hitting the bar the rock bounced harmlessly off the ashen grey feathers of Castiel’s left wing. Castiel stared at the boys, blue gaze penetrating. Perhaps it would make them leave. Most humans found his unblinking stare unnerving. Two of the boys hesitated, lowered their hands but the oldest of the three took the stare as a challenge, evidenced when he threw another rock._

_With a sigh Castiel shuffled slightly in his cage and brought his wings forward as much as he could to shield himself from the irritating pebbles. They did not hurt; the boys simply didn’t have the strength._

_“Hey, stop that!” Castiel parted his wings slightly and saw a new boy enter the fray. Where he came from Castiel wasn’t sure but the anger that thrummed through the boy’s tiny frame was clear in the clenched hands at his side. The largest boy flashed the new comer a smirk, “What are you going to do?” With that said the leader of the group turned and pelted Castiel with another stone, this one he felt, the pain made him jump as it hit the side of his throat. With a brush of his fingers Castiel felt the graze._

_There was an audible smack, flesh against flesh. The new boy stood above the largest of the trio; little hand a tight fist as he glared down at the other. The big boy got up, sniffling and ran off with his two friends trailing after him. Castiel laughed softly. The lone boy swung his bright green gaze to him, mouth pulled into a taut line. His eyes were hot with anger, “What are you laughing at? It’s your fault I had to hurt him.”_

_Castiel recoiled at the venom in his words, taken aback once more. “How exactly is it my fault child?”_

_The boy walked a little closer and jabbed a finger at him, “You should have ran away like all of the other cowardly angels. But instead you stayed here and did nothing, maybe made things worse.”_

_Castiel swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. Numerous angels had stayed on Earth when the rest returned to Heaven, and some did not stay for the good of humanity. “Then why help me if you hate angels?”_

_Dean twisted his head to the side and gestured vaguely at him, “Cos you couldn’t defend yourself and that’s not fair.” Castiel leaned closer against the bar and angled his head to try and catch a glimpse of the boy’s face, “Have you suffered because of angels?”_

_The boy stiffened, “Yeah.” He eventually said._

_Castiel reached a hand out through the bars, tanned digits extended, “Tell me.”_

_Tears suddenly streamed down the boy’s freckled face and little silent heaves wrecked his voice, “My mom…he, an angel…he k…”_

_Castiel felt his Grace ache, he pushed against the bars, “I’m sorry.” Even with his powers so restrained he could sense the boy’s brilliantly bright soul._

_The boy just nodded and wiped his nose on the back of his wrist. With a sigh Castiel leaned back slightly and then an idea struck him, he plucked the largest stone he could find from the bottom of his cage and held it out to the boy._

_“Speak your name.”_

_The boy shook his head, “What…why?”_

_“I want to give you something, but you must keep it a secret.”_

_The boy’s brows drew together with consternation and Castiel feared he would not answer, “Dean…my name’s Dean.”_

_“Please, touch the stone.” At that Castiel rolled the stone to the tips of his fingers and Dean complied by touching the tip of his index finger to its rough grey surface._

_With a buzz of excitement he had not felt in many, many years Castiel closed his fingers around the stone and brought it back into the cage. He cupped the stone between the palms of his hands and closed his eyes. He measured his breathing, pulled, **yanked** ,at his Grace and felt it burn hot in him as it screamed against his restraints. He relaxed; found his centre, his power. He let the sensory pieces of information leave him; the feel of the heavy chains on his wings, the rough hard wood he sat on, the tiny huffs of breath that Dean expelled and drew in. Instead he broadened himself. He felt the tilt of the Earth, saw the constellation of stars behind his closed eyes, the breath of God from Creation itself as it swirled though the world. _

_He pressed his palms hard together and channeled his Grace as he meditated. In a strange secondary sense he could feel the stone changing. The blood in his body began to boil; the cuffs on his wrists seared his skin as he pushed himself to his limits. Finally, the process was complete and he pried his hands apart with a hiss of pain and opened his eyes. Dean was standing close to the bars, hands wrapped around the iron separating them. Dean’s brow was corrugated with worry._

_Castiel held out his palm to show Dean the first charm he had made in decades. It was a simple band of silver, a tiny ring. Dean’s mouth was parted and his gaze flicked quizzically from Castiel’s face back to the ring. “What…that was angel mojo wasn’t it?”_

_Castiel frowned at the word mojo but nodded nonetheless, “Yes, this is a charm. It is for you Dean, as thanks and as a small token to say that I am sorry that one of my siblings has caused you such pain.”_

_Dean gently took the ring from Castiel’s palm and the place where his fingertips grazed Castiel’s palm flared with sensation. Dean held the ring between his index finger and thumb. “What’s a charm?”_

_“A charm is an object imbued with magical qualities, it is what I specialised in. The one I have given you is not very powerful I am afraid, but the best I could manage in my circumstances.”_

_Dean nodded his understanding as he ingested the information. “What does it do?”_

_“Tips luck, fate, in your balance. It won’t protect you from harm…more like, what should have shattered your bone will only fracture. It will only work for you, and will grow as you do, it will always fit you Dean.” Castiel looked fondly at the ring and felt himself smile back at Dean as the boy grinned at him. “Put it on.”_

_Dean slipped it on, “Thank you.”_

_Castiel shook his head, “Thank you for helping me Dean.”_

_Dean blushed, pink staining his freckled cheeks as he wiped away one final tear from his green eyes, “Any time.”_

Castiel rolled onto his back in his piles of furs and blankets as he pondered the memory. He did not want nor need a bed, after all he did not sleep often or for very long, but he appreciated the soft silks and warmth of the furs. The boy had grown up so much had become a tall and fit man. But his skin had the white shadows of scars, his soul had become tarnished and his jade green eyes were hardened. He was not the same boy. Castiel sighed; he had treasured the memory of the young boy, someone who hated angels but still found the compassion to help him. Dean had given him the hope that maybe not all humans were beyond saving. It had also escaped his attention whether or not Dean still wore his charmed ring or if he even remembered him at all. Humans had terrible memories.

 

Castiel sat up and scrubbed a hand through his hair. It didn’t matter if Dean still wore it or not or remembered the event. Despite that, Castiel found himself reaching across the Persian rug that lined the floor of his tent to reach his shoes. He smoothed the palm of his hand over his hair and briefly considered his reflection in the small mirror on the table.

 

The morning was bitter cold, Castiel realised the fact in an observatory way, rather than feel it in his blood. The cold had to be extreme for an angel to feel it. Smoke curled from a large grey tent, the mess he believed. Dean and his brother for some reason had been given a rather long chain; it had taken him nearly a decade to be afforded the same privilege. He begrudged the demon for that fact but not Dean, yet.

 

Castiel walked across the mud and stepped into the mess. Inside, it was a discordant flurry of movements as the humans stumbled in a line in front of steaming silver boxes from which they ladled all manners of beige and muted red foods. Most had not noticed him yet but those that sat at the long plastic tables paused in their breakfast to stare at him. At the end of the food line were tall cylinders, out of which poured hot brown liquid, tea or coffee he supposed, and out of others orange juice. Some of his brothers, like Gabriel, had been fascinated by human food; he found it repulsive and unnecessary.

 

There was a tap on his shoulder, Castiel turned to face Gordon who regarded him with a raised brow. “Something you need Castiel?”

Castiel shook his head.

 

“You ain’t looking to smite that demon are you? Cos you know you’ll only get into trouble for it.” Gordon paused and lowered his voice as he leaned in close, “Though, I ain’t saying it wouldn’t be worth it.”

 

“I am looking for him but I mean him no harm.”

 

Gordon laughed quietly under his breath then took a sip from his chipped mug, “I bet…well, the new exhibits are still in their tent. They were talking when I walked past a while ago.”

 

Castiel hesitated for a moment, suspicious of Gordon’s helpfulness but then shrugged it off as he left the mess tent. Whatever happened, did it really matter? It was a sad truth that his dispassionate and uncaring state had become normal for him. Castiel tucked his hands into his trousers pockets and made his way to the new crimson tent that had been set up for the brothers.

 

+++

 

Dean sat on the edge of his cot as he waited for Sam to get back from showering. He subconsciously twisted and rubbed the silver ring on his finger. Last night Sam had been more pleased to see him than to start his interrogations but this morning Dean expected that to change. The ring on his finger grew tight as he began to sweat.

 

Finally Sam reappeared in their tent, brows drawn together with anxiety. Dean steeled himself. “So, how did you manage to con your way in here Dean? What did you tell them you were, or could do?”

 

Dean looked down at his hands and forced himself to stop playing with his ring. “I made a deal-“

 

Sam spun to face him, face pale, “You can’t be serious Dean! It’s illegal for a start and…it’s your **soul**!”

 

Dean raised a hand to cut off his tirade, “Sammy, it wasn’t a crossroads demon okay? I didn’t go and summon one of the damn things. Not sure who or what it was. All they want me to do is get that prick of an angel out of here.” Dean paused and undid the first button of the olive green Henley. This revealed the silver chain and the opalescent orb that dangled from it, “In return for that, he gave me this. It’s given me some sort of healing magic. I ain’t too sure how it works, or its limits.”

 

Sam drew closer and leaned down slightly to get a better look at the necklace. “Can I take a closer look?”

 

At that Dean shot him a sheepish smile and began to button up his shirt again. “Yeah well, the guarantee the guy got was that I can’t take the damn thing off until I get us all out. So, if we get out and I don’t hold up the end of my deal, I get branded a monster for the rest of my life. That’s the downside.” Dean swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck, no need to tell Sam the whole truth, no need for him to worry about him dropping dead in a years time, or sooner, if he couldn’t get the stinking thing off.

 

Sam though didn’t seem to see the lie and merely sank down onto his own cot and stared down at his muddied boots. “But how the hell are we going to get Castiel out?”

 

At that Dean gave a derisive snort. “If we can get him out easy enough we will, but if it’s too dangerous, we are hightailing it out of here without him. Capische?”

 

Sam’s lips parted as he took in a sharp little breath, but then his shoulders sagged and he nodded. “Yeah okay, that makes sense. We get out of here, we drag out Castiel with us if we can.”

 

Dean stood. “To be honest, I quite like the idea of leaving that junkless monster here to suffer. He probably deserves it.”

 

+++

 

Castiel finally found the tent but his hand hovered over the flap when he heard the brothers speaking. He heard the last few words on something to do with a deal, and then he stilled when he heard his own name.

 

_“How the hell are we going to get Castiel out?”_

Castiel schooled his breaths and retreated a step. Why were they going to try and get him out? To use him, sell him? Or was it something to do with the deal? The tips of rage began to unfurl in his breast, al humans were the same. He couldn’t trust them. Dean truly wasn’t the young boy he had met all those years ago anymore.

 

Dean’s next few words chilled him, he didn’t want to help him and thought he deserved to be here to rot away for the rest of eternity or until the next Apocalypse burned Earth. And what had he done to this human to deserve such animosity? It was clear then, that he did not remember meeting him all those decades ago.

Castiel whipped around and tried to get his breathing under control. He tried to bade away the rage, so different to the Heavenly righteousness he felt when going into battle against Lucifer’s hordes. This was something he had learned from humans, the desire for violence without the backing of an order to kill.

 

Behind him, he heard Sam and Dean emerge from their tent. He had at least one advantage that he could use; he knew they were trying to escape, though that was nothing unusual in the new recruits. Castiel paused and looked over his shoulder, Dean’s eyes were locked onto his back. If he could learn of their plan, he could report them; make them see how cruel it was to be here and how they should rue ever treating him like some commodity they could steal.

 

Castiel batted the thought away and the rage simmered down to a low boil. There was no point in such a conniving low thing, he was an angel, and he was better than that. If they did escape, he should be pleased for them. He told himself that but couldn’t convince himself that he truly felt it deep down. Dean raised a hand to rake his fingers through his wet hair, the action of which drew Castiel’s attention to the silver ring he still wore. Castiel quickly turned his head away. He would not help them, he decided, but he would not hinder them either by reporting them. Instead, he would have nothing to do with them. Dean still wore his ring, the last charm he had made. He took pleasure where he could find it.

 

As he began to walk away Gordon appeared around the corner of a tent and raised a hand, which stopped Castiel in his tracks. “Good, I found you again.” Gordon began as he approached the angel; “You’ve got a performance tonight. Some high end clients booked you for half an hour.”

 

From the corner of his eye he watched as Sam and Dean curiously stared at him. Of course he hated being a pet on a lead, made to perform whenever his master Crowley, so desired. A man he had never met. Despite his thoughts he nodded. “Of course. I shall be ready for tonight.”

 

With that done, Gordon gestured for the brothers, which Castiel took as his cue to leave. He idled nearby to hear the conversation.

 

Gordon smiled. “You’re up tonight Sam. It’s your first showing so it’ll only be a small audience. Scrub yourself up Sam; Crowley got you a suit to wear.” Duties done, Gordon left the brothers, smugness rolling off him as he strode away and began to whistle low and wet from his lips.

 

Despite the man being a demon, Castiel felt the edges of sympathy for Sam as he watched his complexion turn pallid.  

 

+++

 

Gordon’s news had made Sam’s mind go blank; he knew only one thing, to get out of here. To escape before he dug his grave deeper. Dean followed after him; he heard his calls as though his ears were filled with water. Soon, the tents and detritus of The Menagerie were left behind him and Dean, as he walked to the edges of the muddy fair grounds. His breath began to get heavier and his hands began to shake.

 

All of a sudden he hit something. Sam stumbled back a step and hissed in a small breath as he stared out at the landscape in front of him. The field turned into a small copse of trees, ground littered with leaves and yet he could not take another step forward. He raised a hand and reached out, and immediately, after a certain small distance he felt it being forced back, like there was an invisible string around his wrist.

 

“This must be the edge huh.”

 

Sam whipped around at Dean’s voice, his brother was eerily calm behind him with his hands tucked into his pockets. “What…?” Sam asked breathless, he knew exactly what Dean meant, could feel the sigils and demon magic burning hot on the cuffs of his wrist, yet his mind refused to believe it.

 

“You know, this is as far away as we can get from The Menagerie.” Dean twisted on the spot to look at the assembled tents. “I’d say about 600 feet. Quite a long lead ain’t it?”

 

Sam sank down to rest on his haunches and held his head in his hands. “Dean, I can’t do anything…my levitation, that was a one-off, I thought you were going to die.” A shudder ran through Sam at the memory. It was a hunt he had decided to help on, a particularly nasty poltergeist that had killed three people. Dean very nearly had been next, until Sam managed to move the oil lantern onto the unearthed remains of the body. “That’s not something I can just _do_ on command. What’s going to happen to me Dean? If I can’t perform, I have no value…they’ll…they’ll kill-“

 

“Stop.”

 

Sam gazed up at his big brother, the first of hot tears began to prick at his eyes. “I’m not going to let that happen.” Dean spoke with conviction.

Sam let his hands fall away from his face, “How do you know that?”

 

“Cos I got a plan. It’ll work, I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be safe until we get out of here.” At this point, Dean hunkered down next to Sam and pressed his palm to the jut of his shoulder. “Believe me. It’s going to be okay.”

 

And in that moment, Sam did, that was all he needed to hear, the details could come later. So Sam nodded and let Dean pull him back up onto his feet.

 

+++

 

As they walked back to The Menagerie, Dean chewed the inside of his cheek as his mind whirled with plans. The only one that stood out -the only one that actually stood a chance of working -was a pretty piss poor plan. But it was his only option and it might kill two birds with one stone. That plan was asking Cas for help. He knew that most angels possessed the power to levitate; the only real question was whether he still had the juice to do it…and if he would even agree to help.

 

Dean’s green gaze tracked over the tents and then paused as they landed on the midnight blue tent. “Okay, you get some breakfast. I’m going to take care of things.” Sam’s hand wrapped itself tight around Dean’s bicep, “I trust that you have a plan Dean, but let me help.”

 

Dean shrugged off Sam’s hand and then fixed him a glare, “That’s great, but the plan involves that stuck up angel and I don’t think he’d even want to hear us out with a-” Dean paused here to lace the air with exaggerated quotation marks, “’demon’, so go eat and I’ll try and get him to help us.”

 

At that Sam admitted defeat, evident in the sag of his shoulders. Once they were back amongst the thick of the settlement they parted ways, Sam headed for the mess and Dean for Castiel’s tent.

 

A nervous energy began to mount up inside of Dean. He puffed at the frosty air as he approached Castiel’s tent. Dozens of different scenarios played themselves out before his mind’s eye, ranging from a dewy eyed oath to be the Winchester’s guardian angel (and wasn’t that ridiculous?) to straight out heavenly immolation from a hand clapped onto his forehead.

 

Still, with those not so comforting thoughts beleaguering him, Dean found himself standing outside the entrance to Castiel’s tent. He felt as if he should knock but there were only the heavy canvas flaps. The notion was unneeded, as there came the gravel rough voice. “Come in.” Ducking his head slightly Dean took the invitation and parted the tent’s entrance and walked inside.

 

He stood in open wonder at the interior. It was an eclectic mix of cultures, from the plush red and blue Persian rug on the floor to the one large, bulbous Chinese lantern that sat in the centre of the room, which emitted a soft blue light. The sparse wooden furniture inside was clearly expensive, evident from the clawed feet of the table to the elaborate silver lock on a wooden chest. But most spectacular were the dozens of glass Moroccan lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Each lantern was unique in size, shape and the glass used, though they were all blues and whites. It had the appearance of the night sky, tethered to the roof of the tent. The whole room was bizarre yet ethereal.

 

In the furthermost corner Castiel regarded Dean as he finished buttoning up his silken white shirt, with its ridiculously large sleeves. He only wore it when performing for clientele. “Can I help you Dean?”

 

Dean was startled from his staring and his gaze swung to the angel’s eyes, the colour of which was intensified by the collection of blue lights. “Ugh yeah…” Dean began but then he raised a finger, “What’s up with all of the lights? Do you have bad eyesight or something?”

 

Castiel cast his gaze over the many lanterns as though he had only just noticed them. “I have excellent night vision. I have them here because I choose to have them. Now get to why you are here.”

 

At the curt remarks Dean stiffened and tilted his chin up. “Look, I can trust you right?” Castiel shrugged, “That depends.”

 

“Well, it’s obvious that I’m here to get Sam and I out right?”

 

At that Castiel nodded. “Every new creature here has a desire to leave, I would not expect your brother and you to be any different.”  
Dean’s expression shifted slightly, his lips thinned into a line and the angel wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. In the lull Castiel shifted his wings, which made the chains on them rattle.

 

“But we can’t do that if my brother ends up dead and he doesn’t have the power to do what these people think he can do. So, I was wondering…” Dean averted his gaze and stared at the patterns on the rug.

 

“How would I help exactly?” Castiel replied, bored, as he set upon the task of fastening the strings on his oversized shirt cuff.

 

“He was brought here because he accidentally did some levitation crap and he can’t do it on command like some sort of show pony. So I was wondering if you could-“

 

“No.”

 

Dean froze, “Just like that,” He uttered, words muted.

 

But when Castiel nodded casually, the shock, although as he expected it, turned into anger inside of Dean. “Well why the hell not?”

 

“One, it would put me in unnecessary danger and two, why would I help someone tainted by demon blood?” Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Dean’s plump lips parted.

 

“You know he’s not actually a demon then?”

 

“At first I thought he was a low level demon but that is due to my restricted powers. Normally, to an angel, the difference is astounding. I did not catch on straight away but now I realise. And yet this is irrelevant, he is demonic and must have been close to one of them for such a deep infection to occur.” As though as an afterthought Castiel murmured, “Although, such an infection is not beyond salvation.”

 

Images of a beautiful young woman with flowing brown hair swelled inside of Dean at Castiel’s posited words, although the last words were what caught his attention, “You mean you could cure him?”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes and flared his wings as far as the thick chains would allow him in an angelic type of shrug, which was answer enough for Dean. Despite that Dean set his jaw; there was no way he was leaving this ass-clown behind, now that he knew that an angel could cure his brother. The only problem then was winning him over and from the scowl on the angel’s face the dislike was mutual. 

 

“Okay fine, I can see I’m not going to change your mind.” To which Castiel nodded and pulled out a pair of soft, long black boots. “Correct,” he confirmed succinctly.

 

Dean nodded; he wasn’t going to get anywhere right now. As he began to turn away from the glowing blue room Dean paused. “At least see my brother at his first performance. Will you at least do that?”

 

Castiel grimaced but then let out a laboured sigh, “Fine. I will come but that is all. I do not know what you hope such a viewing will achieve but if it gives me peace from you and your brother henceforth I will do as asked.”

 

Dean smiled, soft, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew a lot rested on this, Sam’s future, his own. “Thanks.” After a moment Dean let the smile slide into a lop sided grin, “Maybe you’ll convince me that not all angels are assholes while you’re at it.”

 

Castiel felt his gaze pulled to the silver ring, a subtle action that Dean missed as he left the tent with an easy wave over his shoulder.

 


	4. Showtime

Sam stared down at the white suit laid out on his cot. The pressed ivory was stark against the dark greys of his blankets. At the pocket was a fresh red rose, like a droplet of blood on a handkerchief.

 

“You ready?” Dean asked, cool and collected despite the turmoil inside of him.

 

Sam picked up the shirt, “What time is it?”

 

“5:43, your gig is at 7, so you have some time and I managed to talk to Gordon. He said it would be okay if I could watch Castiel’s performance too. Just gotta act civilized.”

 

At that Sam expelled a derisive snort. “You? Civilized, that would be a performance in itself.”

 

Dean pouted but shrugged as he came closer to examine Sam’s new clothes. “Huh, flashy.”

Sam nodded absentmindedly at the comment. “But why do you want to watch Castiel? I mean, you hate his guts right?”

 

Dean’s fingers brushed against the petals of the rose, “Well yeah but I want to see what he can do. Just a bit of reconnaissance.”

 

And that was how, at 5:50PM Dean found himself sitting in Castiel’s performance tent. It was small, strangely intimate with only a few plush silver cushions and blankets assembled on the floor for the guests. On a slightly raised platform, draped with chiffon, sat Castiel, cross-legged, with his eyes closed in a pose that exemplified peace and tranquility.

 

His eyes flicked open and locked onto Dean, immediately the relaxation was sapped from his body. “What are you doing here?” He asked in clipped tones. It became glaringly obvious that, like the soft hues of the room and otherworldly lights, Castiel’s prior pose was nothing more than an act, nothing like the true angel’s personality.

 

At the question Dean shrugged and positioned himself at the side of the stage but at the front row. “I got permission to watch you tonight from the boss. Shouldn’t you be behind bars or something?”

 

At the admission a frown crossed Castiel’s face but it was quickly hidden as the angel turned his face away to look at the other side of the tent. “They got rid of the bars for my performances a year ago, I have earned that level of respect.”

With a final huff Castiel glared at Dean. “Just sit there and don’t do anything.”

 

That said Castiel relaxed back into his role of a gentile mystical angel and closed his eyes. Only seconds later the patrons began to come inside. Dean didn’t look at them as they pointed and gesticulated at Castiel and at his bound ashen hued wings. In total, six other people came and took their seats on the cushions on the floors, some of which grumbled about the discrepancy between the cost and level of comfort. When everyone was seated Castiel opened his eyes and raised one hand from his knee and as he lowered it, the lights went out from the room.

 

Then, slowly, so slowly that Dean had to blink several times, tiny spots of light began to pinprick the shadows. They started out dim and small and then began to grow in size and brightness. Dean felt himself transfixed, enraptured by the spectacle that began to unfold. The white lights moved and turned into patterns, complex swirls and diamonds began to materialise in the air. Then, the patterns became pictures; a field of glistening snow appeared out of the hundreds of lights, with wizened trees that dotted the borders. As though it were a movie, the perspective moved forward to one of the wizened trees. Dean felt his eyes water with the strain at watching the shifting brightness. On the tree were frozen icicles and in the icicles were bubbles of water that bobbed against the surface. And in that bubble was a tiny, tiny creature, something foreign and alien that Dean knew should only be seen through a powerful microscope. Its tiny leg like appendages moved like seaweed caught in the current and a bright line of light ran along its curved back.  
  
Then with a soft clap, the lights were dismissed and the room began to fill with light again. Castiel had hardly moved, only his hands were joined together. Castiel cast his scintillating sapphire eyes over the audience.

“And that, is how an angel sees the world, or at least an imitation. What seems like an insignificant and unnoticeable detail does not escape my scrutiny.”

 

There were no claps of applause, only a hushed, almost reverential silence from the audience. But Dean, he smiled without realizing it.

 

Next Castiel reached across the stage to pick up a tiny pebble that Dean hadn’t noticed before. A strange sense of déjà vu overcame him as he saw the angel clasp the pebble between his palms.  
  
With a languid, fluid grace Castiel took a hand from the pebble and pointed in the gloom at Dean. His finger hung there for a moment, accusatory and it made Dean squirm as the rest of the audience turned to watch him. “Your favourite animal sir?”

 

Dean licked his lips, “Ugh, bird.” The word was blurted out and someone behind him laughed at the irony. Castiel shifted his wings, which made the chains clink.

 

He put his left hand back onto the pebble and squeezed. There was a tiny ringing sound in the air, not entirely unpleasant but quiet enough that only parts of the chime were heard. After a moment the sound died down and Castiel opened his hands.

 

Inside was a clear glass ornament. At first it looked as though it was only a birdcage, with fine lines that curved towards the apex. But when Castiel raised it into the light of the lantern, it was obvious to see a bird inside that was sitting on a perch.

 

With a cruel, bitter smirk Castiel held out the trapped glass bird to Dean, “It’s a gift.” Dean’s mouth was dry as he stood and plucked the object from Castiel’s palm.

 

“Thanks.” He muttered blushing. It was shame that coloured his cheeks as he sat back down. He had said that the angel deserved this. But how was he to truly know that?

 

“Now, I have time for just one more trick,” Castiel delivered with a mischievous lilt to his voice. For this he finally stood up and stretched out his arms. The round white walls of the tent ballooned outwards, the ceiling of it rose and rose above their heads, till the ceiling was several meters high.

 

“I will take the same volunteer. Would you please stand again sir?”

 

Dean swallowed hard and put his glass birdcage aside. He stepped up to the raised platform Castiel was on and avoided his gaze as he stared adamantly at the slightly pointed toes of his boots. And then, he felt himself being jerked, like the sensation he felt when the Impala flew over a dip in the road. When he looked about, he saw the sides of the tent moving and with a sense of dread that only grew he looked downward. Castiel’s face peered up at him, along with the myriad of faces from the audience. The cushions were far below him. A shout of terror clawed at the back of his throat but he swallowed it. After all, he had to preserve some remnant of his dignity. The fall wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like a son of a bitch. And it was with an abject horror he noticed that Castiel’s outstretched arms were shaking with exertion, the chains on his wings were alive with red burning letters.

 

This was the extent of the angel’s power, a little levitation. Despite being so high, confronted with his fear, Dean’s mind flew to Sam. The angel, if he chose to help could only do so much.

 

It was with that thought Dean finally fell, the invisible strings that held him aloft were severed and the air rushed past him. It was only for a few terrifying milliseconds before he felt the invisible tendrils capture him again. He hung above the floor, body perpendicular with the cushions. Tentatively he reached out a hand and just the tips of his fingertips grazed the satiny fabric. Once more he was let go and he landed with an undignified ‘oomph’ as the air was pushed out of his lungs.

 

Dean rolled onto his back, hand over his chest and glared up at the angel who bowed to his crowd, who now chose to clap. Dean’s mood was soured, the guilt he felt before for the angel was ripped away. Castiel had played him like a fool.

 

“Thank you for coming.” Castiel finished and the lights bloomed back to full brightness to allow the patrons to leave. Dean sat up and waited for them to leave before he began. “You asshole.”

 

Castiel chuckled at that as he stepped off the stage and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Well,” The angel began with mock sincerity, “You wanted me to perform some levitation magic didn’t you? And now I have. You should be pleased.”

 

Dean pushed himself up to his feet and jabbed a finger into his chest, wrathful heavenly being or not, “I’m not going to let you play with me like this again. Consider this a one time thing you junkless alien, you hear me?”

 

The smile the angel flashed him had Dean fighting back the desire to sock him one, to split those chapped lips. “I understand perfectly Dean. I hope you enjoyed my show. I will see you at Sam’s performance shortly.”

 

Dean turned to leave, waving Castiel off, but then a glimmer caught his eye. It was the glass token Castiel had carved from the rock. The angel said nothing, merely waited to see his decision. Somehow, Dean knew this meant something, that feeling of having been here, in a similar situation before rose up again and stuck with him. With a quiet curse Dean bent over and took the glass cage. He didn’t look to see what Castiel’s expression would reveal; he merely fled from the tent, which had shrunk back to its modest size once more.

 

+++

 

Castiel though was glad Dean had not looked at him for he could not disguise the way his lips shaped a genuine smile. Dean had not shied away or showed his hate for him by smashing the glass-trapped bird. Castiel sat down on the edge of his raised platform and reached back to feel the singed feathers on his wings. He could smell their acrid burned scent. He might get in trouble for performing tricks that were, as Gordon had put it a year or so ago, ‘off the menu’. But more than that the thought of Dean’s fright appalled him. He had been childish; he had confirmed Dean’s prejudices against angels.  At the very least he would attend Sam’s performance, he owed him that much and maybe even an apology for being so petty.

+++

 

Castiel approached Sam’s performance tent; this one was a dark crimson with black swirls that had a dizzying effect the longer he looked at it. Although he did not have permission to be here, as long as he did not harm anyone or break any direct orders none of the employees had the courage to dissuade him from indulging in his own fancies. This was clear from the furtive glance Andy shot at him who had just placed the last chair in the room. Andy skirted around Castiel, the mouse like man slipping out of the tent behind him.

 

Castiel glanced up to what seemed to be the performance area of the tent. Unlike his stage with the elevated platform all Sam had to differentiate himself from the crowd was the wooden planks that had been put on the ground. Dean saw him and waved at him. Castiel did not return the gesture, which made Dean frown.

 

Sam hardly gave him a look, the worry on his face clear. Tight lines were drawn into the skin of his face, his normally healthy complexion was waxen and to the discerning eye there was a subtle shiver that ran through him. Castiel lingered at the entrance of the tent, wary of Gordon who stood at the side. Castiel presumed he was there to provide some measure of comfort to the audience; after all, they all still believed Sam was a full-fledged demon. It was surprising that Sam was not in a cage.

 

Soon people started to mill in, none seemed to care or notice Castiel’s position at the entrance as they all assumed he must be another guard, a tamed angel to protect them from a demon. Castiel watched as Gordon indicated for Dean to sit down in one of the rickety wooden chairs. By the time the tent was full, the heat from all of the bodies created a cloying tepid atmosphere and the sheen of sweat on Sam’s brow was easily visible.

 

Despite his best intentions, Castiel felt for the boy, an old piece of his Grace tugging in sympathy. There were a lot more people here to watch, to see him fail – of that Castiel was almost certain (after all the boy was not a full fledged demon nor was he a powerful psychic, just something stuck in between) and so there were a lot more people to complain to Crowley. Sam seemed to realise the judging from the rigid lines of his frame. His life was very much in danger if he could not perform tonight.

 

Put out in front of Sam on a worn table were three objects. The first was a clear marble with a twisting red line inside, the second was a glass bowl of sand and the last was a silver goblet filled with wine.

 

Castiel looked at each object in turn. Although they were not heavy they each presented unique challenges. The sand had hundreds of tiny grains, the marble had a smooth texture that to a novice would be hard to keep a hold of and the wine would be even harder to keep together as it was a liquid. Sam at his current strength had no hope of keeping the wine from raining down on the audience.

 

The lights brightened on Sam as the show began. Sam shuffled; seemed too small for the perfectly fitted white suit he had been given. There was a cough in the audience and a meaningful look from Gordon for Sam to begin.

 

With that Sam gave the audience a wan smile and turned his attention to the marble. Castiel retreated a step into the darkness. He would not think, only act. Castiel inhaled, smelled the pungent sweat of the vile congregation. Sam had his hand above the marble, inches away. His brow was furrowed with concentration. Moments passed and the marble had not moved.

 

“Come on do something!” A male voice cajoled from the audience.

 

Sam’s eyes darted towards the crowd but he quickly looked back at the marble. More sweat began to pearl on his brow. Veins began to press themselves against his neck. Castiel would have laughed, he strained and nothing came, a sort of mental constipation. But the thing that bottled his laughter, cruel and mocking in nature, were the wide frightened eyes Dean turned on him. The greens of his irises cut through the crowd and lanced straight through Castiel. He was pale, freckle particularly visible. His lips moved, whispering words inaudible to everyone except Castiel – meant for him.

 

_Help him, please._

And Castiel, he could not refuse. Why was he always so soft? Just like he was when he healed that soldier’s eyes. His hand twitched at his side and the marble rose. Sam jumped and looked to the back of the room. Castiel stared back at him as he twisted his hand and made the marble skirt around the edges of the tent. The audience whooped with delight as it weaved between them and under their chairs.

 

 _Play along_. Castiel mouthed at Sam and whether he understood or not, Castiel could not tell. Yet Sam smiled and raised his hand and moved it as though the marble were attached to his palm through an invisible string.

 

Gordon’s dark eyes scanned the room and Castiel took another step away. If he was caught…the marble dropped an inch in the air. Castiel recaptured his concentration and guided the marble back to the table in front of Sam.

 

He gave himself a moment’s reprieve as the audience clapped and Sam smiled and bowed like the perfect showman. Castiel sucked in a breath and steeled himself as he tugged at his bound Grace. It came to life, flared invisibly inside of him, and the sand rose out of the bowl and he made the grains curl up in a corkscrew shape.

 

There was a muted gasp from the gathered people and Castiel let the sand gather into a small sphere, about the size of a tennis ball above the table. Sam had his hand out, a pinched expression on his face but a small smile on his lips.

 

Castiel could feel the chains on his wings begin to burn at his feathers. Castiel ignored it and concentrated on the sand. He made it into a sun, a childlike interpretation with jagged spikes. Next it twisted and became a snake that slithered about in the air and flicked out its tongue. Castiel felt the chains begin to weigh down on him, the cuffs began to burn and his Grace began to squirm and writhe as the spells began to kick in with earnest.

 

He sucked in his lip and teased it with his canine. Dean looked back at him, careful not to make the motion too obvious. There was a grateful smile on his lips, the colour having returned to his face. Castiel cursed himself inwardly, he had resolved not to help them – too much heart was always his problem, as Inias had often told him.

 

Castiel let the sand filter back down into the bowl. He gasped out in pain as he felt the bands around his wrist constrict his bones in punishment. He could feel the delicate bones of his wrist bend under the pressure, on the edge of cracking. It was also a warning, one he chose not to heed.

 

The angel turned his attention to the goblet of wine despite his fear of further pain. As soon as the magic of his Grace touched the liquid, the silver cuffs around his wrist clamped down, vices that snapped his bones with a brutally cruel efficiency.

 

Castiel bit through his lip, tasted his blood as it flooded into his mouth to muffle his scream. The cuffs did not stop their pressure and began to grind the broken bones to dust inside his flesh. He felt the bones shift, tearing his tendons and skin. The wine danced and slithered above the heads of the audience and then made a red constellation above their heads as it split into beads.

 

Castiel’s stomach flipped inside of him as he heard the bone scratch along the metal cuff and blood ran hot down his arms. He blocked out the pain as much as he could manage and concentrated on the floating wine. The beads of wine spun around each other then came back into one long ribbon. An audience member reached up and ran their finger through it and giggled as their finger came out tinged with red.

 

Castiel felt blood run down to his elbow and his shirt’s sleeves stick to him. His Grace began to fracture, at its breaking point. He couldn’t handle anymore the pain began to cloud his mind, the wine shivered above the collective heads. Strangely he found his eyes track back to Dean whose lips were parted and his eyes were wide as he looked at him. Dean’s eyes were on the blood staining his white shirt. Castiel gave the man a nod and let the wine curl back into its goblet.

 

The audience stood and broke out into applause. Sam was all smiles.

 

Castiel staggered out of the tent as the calls for an encore resounded inside the canvas structure. Wet beads of moisture dripped down his face. The pain drove him down to his knees. The cuffs all of a sudden loosened up. Bones, skin, flesh all of them shifted at once. This time Castiel could not bottle the anguished cry.

The cold mud soaked into his knees, the hot tears fled quick and easy from his eyes as pain shot through him and made him shudder.

 

He panted and closed his eyes in the dark. All around him were the sounds of joy – children laughed, adults clapped and popcorn popped merrily. Yet here he was on his knees, mind consumed with pain, feathers burned to cinders on his back.

 

His body tipped to the side, falling into the mud. Was it a mistake to help the Winchesters? The question was not answered as he slipped into unconsciousness.

 

 

He awoke to a body that ached. Castiel blinked and stared at the walls of his tent. “How…?” A voice at his side hushed him. “I brought you back to your tent.”

 

“Dean?” Castiel asked and the uneven cadence of his voice made him wince.

 

“Yeah it’s me.”

 

Castiel let out a grateful sigh, pleased that it was not one of the other workers who would surely have reported his injuries to Crowley.

 

The blankets and pillows that formed his nest shifted slightly as Dean moved. Castiel brought his hands up to his face. There was a constant agony that radiated down from his broken wrists; half of his forearms and hands were covered with violet bruises. Gentle fingers touched his hands and Castiel looked up into Dean’s pinched countenance. “You look worried.” Castiel deadpanned as he tried to twitch his fingers to no avail.

 

Dean didn’t look at him. “I didn’t know it would be this bad…I mean you lifted me up didn’t you? During your performance.”

 

Castiel gingerly pulled his hands away and hid them under the covers. Now with nothing else to distract him Dean looked him in the eye. “The binding spells on me give me more use of my powers when I am performing. When I use that level of magic outside of that time I get punished.”

 

Dean turned his face away again, stared out into nothing. “Dean, look at me.” Castiel reached up for Dean’s shoulder. “This is what you’re asking me to do.”

 

Dean squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

 

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “Why? I thought you hated angels.”

 

Dean’s eyes were wide and rimmed red when he finally looked back at Castiel. When he breathed out a sigh it was a defeated sound and his shoulders slumped. “I do…I thought I did. An angel killed my mother. That’s not something I can forget. But you…maybe you’re different.”

 

Castiel lightly squeezed Dean’s shoulder, ignoring the flare of pain. “And do you know what humans did to the few angels that stayed behind? Not all of us stayed with bad intentions. My sister, Anna…” Castiel swallowed thickly and gave himself a moment. “…She stayed behind to help you. As did I. Yet, they did…are doing, terrible things to her. Worse than being here at The Menagerie.”

 

Dean slid his hand onto Castiel’s and held it against his shoulder and slowly rubbed his thumb over the back of Castiel’s hand. It was a light prickle of sensation, pleasant that soothed away some of the pain. Castiel didn’t understand why he did it. “What happened to her?”

 

“At first I thought she must be dead, no angel has been able to return to Heaven since the others returned. That was the choice we made. Yet I found out the truth about what happened to my sister eight years ago when I killed an employee here at The Menagerie…”

 

 

_Castiel was on his knees in the mud, his wings burnt and smoldering as though they had been scorched with Hell fire. It was not Crowley who appeared before him, but a man he had never met before. He smiled down at Castiel then squatted down next to him as a light drizzle began to soothe away the burns on his wings._

_The man leaned in close. “Crowley said you needed leverage. Needed to learn how to behave like the good little show monkey that you are.”_

_Castiel clenched his jaw and his fists. There were burns from the cuffs that radiated up his arms, tiny scrawled letters of demonic and Enochian magic that set alight every nerve ending.  Yet he was tired of his cowardice, his obedience. If this last defiant act - murdering a cruel man - was to be his last act on Earth, so be it._

_Yet nothing could have prepared him for what came next. A blue van pulled up in the mud, its brakes squeaked as it came to a stop. Castiel watched as the back doors opened._

_“No…” Tears streamed down his face as soon as he laid his eyes upon her. Anna was pushed in front of him. She was completely naked all except for the golden charm that circled her throat that Castiel had made for her thousands of years ago. Yet it was not her nudity that frightened him nor the blackened stumps that protruded from her back, but the blank stare she set upon him._

_Castiel reached up for her and put his hands on her cold thighs. His head hung low, he could not bare to look at her. “What have you done to her?!” He wailed from a throat already hoarse from his screams._

_The stranger stood up and he pried Castiel’s hands off her legs and buried his fingers in his hair. He yanked Castiel’s head up to force him to stare into her vacant eyes._

_“Look at her Castiel. This is what happens to an angel who disobeys.”_

_Anna blinked down at him dispassionately as more sobs wrecked his body._

_“This is what will happen to you. You don’t respect us like you should Castiel. We can make you into this. Anna will do anything now. She has nothing left, no free will, no hope – nothing.”_

_The man smirked and threw Castiel’s head back with a vicious twist, so that the angel fell backwards into the mud. When he blinked up Anna stood above him. She did not care for the rain that pricked her skin. “She is just a body now. This is Crowley’s last warning to you Castiel.”_

_Castiel curled up onto his side and sobbed, let the mud run into his mouth. He lay there long after the van had driven off, long after the rain had stopped._

 

Dean’s jaw was a hard line as Castiel finished his story. “Now do you understand? It’s true what you have said about me, that I’m a coward, a monster even. But I would rather be those things that what Anna has been turned into, that lifeless doll.”

 

“I’ll get you out too.”

 

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”

 

Dean’s lips were thinned into a line of determination. “Well you didn’t stay on Earth to hurt us. Did you?”

 

“No.”

 

At that, Dean nodded and he stood up. Castiel could see that he had decided something from the expression on his face. Castiel brought his hands back to himself and cradled them to his chest. He did not bother to watch as he heard Dean move things about his tent. When Dean returned a minute later, he had a white porcelain bowl and an old towel in his hand. Castiel opened his mouth to ask but was stunned into silence as he wetted the towel and then wiped away the blood that caked Castiel’s silver cuffs. As he lay on his side Castiel was content to watch as Dean washed away his blood.

 

This was the same boy that had stood up for him decades ago. The exterior was roughened, his hands were calloused and scars puckered his flesh, but despite all that, his compassionate side remained. “I began to hate humanity.” Castiel whispered, he hid his face into his pillows. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. You’re not all the same.” He couldn’t picture Dean turning Anna into that lifeless doll, or hurting anyone without reason. He turned his head against the pillow and watched him. This was proof enough, that he had carried him into his tent, listened to his story and was now cleaning the blood from him. Castiel wanted to ask him why he was helping. Was it all because of that deal he had made or was it because he was starting to care?

 

Dean didn’t say anything but his hands were gentle as they washed him. And Castiel didn’t want to break the peace, his questions could come later.


	5. Angel's Heart

Castiel was dreaming again, despite his dislike for them. It seemed he could no longer control it like he used to.

 

_He could see Sam’s tent in front of him, his hand reached out to pry back the canvas. He recoiled, frightened as the tent was sticky and wet. Something dripped from his fingertips. Blood, hot and red dripped down his fingers and ran along the folds in his sleeves. He withdrew his breath in a gasp as he took a step backwards. The tent **breathed;** pulsing like a heart. Castiel tried to move his feet again but found them stuck in the mud. This time, he screamed as the mud turned into claw like hands. They pulled and clawed at his legs and ripped his trousers to ribbons, gouging thick lines through his skin. He was down to his knees in the mess of mud and hands. _

_He begged for them to stop, to let him go, but now the hands could reach his wings._

_They greedily latched onto the feathers and yanked them out, tearing at the delicate skin of his wings. He looked up at the sky, and tried to drag his wings free but all that he could see was the tent that loomed before him. More blood spilled free from the sides, threatening to drown him…_

“Cas. Cas, come on wake up.”

 

Castiel grimaced as he opened his eyes. His tent was full of its blue glow from the many lanterns that hung from the ceiling. Dean was still there beside him, his hand on his shoulder. “You were having a bad dream.”

 

Castiel sat up and rolled his shoulders, wings stiff from being folded up against his back for far too long. Castiel noticed sterile white bandages around the visible parts of his left wrist and hand, and now Dean worked on the other. Castiel sat up to give Dean more room to work. “You know it’s pointless? That I will be healed in a few days time.”

 

Dean shrugged. “That’s still too long isn’t it? It’s gotta hurt and this will help.”

 

Castiel didn’t rebuke it, though he felt as if he should tell Dean to stop coddling him or trying to win him over to his cause, for that was already done. Perhaps that dream had been telling him that staying here in The Menagerie would be his death. Perhaps Dean would be his way out. For the moment though he was content to watch Dean’s skilled fingers loop the bandages around his right wrist. There was a kind, gentle tilt to Dean’s lips as he worked.

 

“What time is it?” Castiel asked as he noted the dark circles under Dean’s eyes.

 

“6AM when I last checked.”

 

With a gentle tug Dean finished his work on the bandage and tied a neat knot into the end. Castiel plucked at it with a grimace, human methods were so crude. Dean seemed to be able to read his mind as he laughed at Castiel. “Best I can do I’m afraid.” Castiel blushed and quickly changed the subject. “Did you not get any sleep?”

 

Dean gave him a strange look that Castiel did not understand. “Yeah, I got a few hours.”

 

There was a disturbance at the door and Dean instinctively stepped away from where Castiel was nestled. It was Gordon at the entrance and the man stopped mid-gait, with confusion clear as day written on his face. But then a slow, menacing grin appeared and he raised a finger, which he waggled between Castiel and Dean. “This isn’t what I think is it? Cos you know The Menagerie doesn’t allow interspecies breeding right?”

 

Castiel bristled at that, his wings tugged at the chains that held them. “No, it is not what your perverted little mind thinks it is Gordon. What is it that you want?”

 

Gordon sauntered in, his fingers brushing over a chest of drawers. “Well I was here to tell Castiel that he should get permission before sitting in at performances…”

 

Castiel slowly hid his hands under a blanket. If they were found out he held no illusions that Sam would be executed and he would come a step closer to meeting Anna’s fate.

 

“But,” Gordon continued, his gaze now settled on Dean’s face, which betrayed no emotion. At least Dean had a better poker face than himself, Castiel thought. “I did also need to speak to Dean. Crowley’s decided to put you on tonight, so you better make sure you’re ready. We’ll get some clothes sorted out.”

 

Gordon chuckled and once more made a meaningful glance at both Castiel and Dean. “You two have fun.” He said as he left Castiel’s tent.

 

As soon as he did Castiel sagged against his cushions, hearing the clink of chains as his wings relaxed. Dean rubbed at his chin, the concern he had masked now plain to see. “Do you think he knows that you helped Sam?”

 

Castiel took a moment to think before he answered. “I think he suspects something but knows nothing for certain. From what I am told Crowley has no patience, so Gordon would not go to him with the information unless he was certain.” With a sigh Castiel drew out his hands. “For the moment I think we are safe.”

 

Dean sank down onto a leather ottoman. “Now we’ve got another problem.”

Castiel let out a puff air. “Don’t tell me, you don’t actually have powers too?”

 

Dean reached up to the necklace on his throat and thumbed the opalescent sphere that hung from it. “Nah I do. It’s just…. I’m not sure if I could use them at will.”

 

Castiel stood up and stretched. Looking down at himself and – much to his dismay - he saw that he was still in his performance gear. “I’ll try and help you.”

 

Castiel began to unbutton the front of his shirt and Dean flushed red and swiveled around to give the angel privacy. Castiel didn’t notice as he slipped the shirt over the curve of his wings and stepped out of his shoes and trousers. Instead, Castiel resumed his one sided conversation as he put on some loose grey pants. “What is it that you claim to do anyway? Pyromancy, divination?”

 

Dean glanced over his shoulder, mouth half opened to answer when he was struck with the visual of Castiel’s naked back and shoulders. The wings protruded from either sides of his spine, that much he expected, but what he did not expect were the tiny black feathers that flared out from the point where wing met back. The feathers looked soft and fluffy despite the heavy chains that were wrapped around Castiel’s wings.

 

Now though, Dean could see that the chains went _into_ Castiel’s body.

 

“The hell?” Dean murmured as he stood up.

 

Castiel twisted around to see what Dean meant and then he shrugged. “The chains are demonic magic, though you can touch and feel them like any other chain. Normally an angel would not keep its wings out unless to fly or whilst under duress but this magic forces me to project my wings onto the physical plane.”

 

Dean wet his lips, stepping closer to Castiel. The angel shied away as he looked suspiciously at him. “What are you doing?” Castiel asked as Dean stretched out a hand.

 

Now that he was closer, Dean could see that where the links of the dark metal disappeared into Castiel’s body, there were dark bruises and rings of inflamed skin. Gently, he ran a fingertip along the wounded skin and followed it along one of the bumps in Castiel’s spine.

 

Castiel withdrew his breath in a pained hiss. “Don’t.”

 

Dean took his hand away. “Why do they make you wear the chains?”

 

Castiel finally turned to face Dean and he tugged on a plain blue t-shirt. “Because people expect to see an angel’s wings. Also because they are like exposed nerves. To keep them out for so long is painful…it makes me weak. So their purpose is two fold.”

 

The pity he saw on Dean’s face made Castiel stomach turn; he did not want the human’s pity. “So what is your power Dean?” Castiel reiterated.

 

Dean seemed to jolt back to awareness. “I’ve got some healing deal.”

 

“Healing?” Castiel, asked, shocked.

 

“Yeah that’s what I said. Lame ain’t it?” He replied with a grimace. “I wanted something cool, like lightning to shoot out from my fingertips, instead I get stuck with magic fingers.” Dean punctuated this by wriggling his fingers with a grimace.

 

“Healing is a very special skill Dean. Unfortunately for us both, I was never very good at it.”

 

Dean sighed dramatically and went back over to his ottoman. He put his elbows onto his knees and steepled his fingers under his chin. “So what are we going to do then?”

 

Castiel smirked down at Dean as he crossed over to him. He looked the human up and down, soaking in his appearance; olive green jacket, grey Henley and faded denim jeans. “I did not say I could not do it. Just that I was not the best at it.”

 

Dean shook his head but smiled, “You sly son of a bitch. You did that just to make me worry didn’t you?”

 

Castiel let his smirk deepen as he dragged one of the larger cushions from his nest and put it in front of Dean. At this angle, Castiel was forced to look up at Dean. “Perhaps you will still need to worry. The way my powers are bound, I cannot heal myself anymore, but I can try and tell you as much as I can.” Dean nodded and set his jaw into a determined line. “Okay, where do we start, Yoda?”

 

Castiel frowned at the strange word but just let out a sigh. He was beginning to like this human. Understanding him however would prove its own challenge. “To start, put your index and middle finger to your wrist…find your pulse.”

 

Dean did as he was told. “Good,” Castiel nodded, “Now I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on your pulse. Healing is about repairing what is already there, speeding up the body’s natural processes – nothing more, nothing less.”

Dean closed his eyes and felt the tiny butterfly of his pulse push and prod against his warm fingertips.

 

“For humans and other creatures of Earth, your blood is your life source. So it is at the centre of all Earthly, physical, healing. It travels throughout the whole body, feeds it…”

 

Dean cracked open an eye and squinted down at Castiel. “Thanks for the biology lesson, but can we get to the point?” Castiel indulged in his impulses and gave Dean’s leg a smack. Dean yelped at the unexpected contact but quickly closed his eyes again.

 

“If you are a healer your mind should be able to follow the path of the blood. This is the first lesson of healing. Once you can follow its path, you’ll find that a lot of the physical injuries sustained can be healed. Follow the blood inside of you with your mind.”

 

Dean shook his head, keeping his eyes closed, “That’s the lesson? Follow the blood? Listen buddy I’m not some sort of freaky bloodhound.”

 

“Just try Dean,” Castiel eked out, exasperated at this human’s lack of patience.

 

Dean furrowed his brow and thought about blood; how hot and sticky it was, how it sprayed his face when he cleaved off the head of a vampire, how it sizzled and boiled when he set a Wendigo on fire, how he had found Sam with it smeared around his mouth…

 

“Dean, you look as if you are in pain. This is not a fight. Think of how it is a giver of life not as something dark.”

 

Dean’s brow smoothed. Now his mind turned to how he had stitched Sam up after a salt and burn, how he held Sam in his arms when he was a baby with his rosy cheeks and pink lips. He thought of pleasure too, how blood rushed south when he got hard and how his blood tingled with adrenaline after a successful Hunt.

 

Dean gasped as he saw inside of himself. It was not what he expected. He had expected to see some kind of weird science documentary play out in his head, but instead, it was a rush. He could feel the blood in his muscles speed through his heart. It was a warm awareness, not a gory visual. All the while Dean could feel the hum of the necklace on his throat.

 

Castiel nodded, satisfied. “You seem quite adept at healing. You have potential.” Castiel spoke without qualm and Dean looked away at his unabashed, sincere words but then he looked at Castiel’s wrists. “How about I get some practice?”

 

Castiel’s eyes widened. Dean had only just learnt how to heal light injuries by understanding the flow of blood. But he hadn’t been lying when he thought Dean had potential. He would probably regret this later. Castiel showed Dean his broken wrists. “Heal me.”

 

Carefully, Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s wrist and laid his palm against the cold of his cuff. He closed his eyes and Castiel waited with baited breath.

 

Healing, if done incorrectly, was a very unique torture for the recipient. Bones could be fused wrong, nerves could cross, resulting in unimaginable pain. Castiel felt the first tingle of healing, pins and needles that wound their way up and down his wrist. He watched Dean’s face become pinched with concentration. It didn’t hurt, merely felt uncomfortable as he felt his bones rearrange and touch each other. The swelling began to recede as the moments ticked by, until finally, Castiel wriggled his fingers and exhaled in relief. Dean had proven him right, he did have talent.

 

Dean’s grip slipped from his arm but he kept his eyes closed. His face was pale, and sweat beaded on his brow. For a relatively simple healing, the toll seemed strange…

 

Castiel rolled himself up onto his knees. “Are you okay?” Dean nodded and Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

 

At that Dean opened his eyes and looked down at the hand. Castiel thought at first he was angry, offended at the contact but instead, despite his pallor Dean broke out into a smile as he stared at Castiel’s hand. “I did it.”

 

A laugh rumbled in Castiel’s chest. “Yes you did.” A surge of pride and affection ballooned inside of Castiel. Dean was special.

 

However, something was off. Castiel tilted his head and birdishly peered at Dean. “Although such a simple healing should not drain you like this.” Castiel put the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead to feel his temperature. Dean batted the hand away.

 

Castiel drew back his hand. “My apologies. Perhaps it would be good for you to eat something. It seems healing takes more out of a human than it would an angel. I doubt that it would result in any permanent damage for you though.”

 

Dean pushed himself up and carefully looking directly at Castiel. He started towards the flaps of the tent but paused as Castiel remained where he was. “Aren’t you coming?”

 

Castiel’s squinted at Dean. “It’s not necessary for angels to eat.”

 

“But you can eat right? You know, us humans don’t just eat to stay alive, it tastes damn good too.”

 

With a laugh, Castiel replied, “Yes, I’m aware -  it’s called gluttony.”

 

Dean frowned, “Just come will you?”

 

With a defeated shrug of his shoulders Castiel followed after Dean. Perhaps it would be better for him to stay near Dean if he was still feeling weak. When Castiel stood Dean smiled. “Great, I wonder if you’ll like pie or coffee.”

 

Castiel hid the smile he could feel at his lips and followed after Dean as he left the tent. A temporary worker paused as they both emerged from out of Castiel’s tent and gave them a curious prolonged look. Castiel ignored the man as he made his way towards the mess tent.

 

The day was bright and cool and Castiel couldn’t help but notice the pale tinge to the tips of Dean’s fingers. Castiel exhaled and watched the mist of his breath. Did Dean like cold weather?

 

The smell of bacon being cooked met Castiel’s nostrils as they approached the long tent. The canvas was a dark brown although Castiel remembered it once being white.

 

Dean strolled into line, picking up a plate as he did. Castiel stood and watched the line. He folded his arms across his chest as he debated about whether this was a good idea. Rolling his eyes, Dean pointed at the space behind him, “Get your ass here you feathered dick”. Castiel glared at him but got into line all the same.

 

Parts of Hell looked like this. Castiel was about to tell Dean that, but was interrupted when Dean pushed a paper plate at him. Curiously, Castiel eyed the food on offer. The morning service consisted of mushrooms, Hash Browns, eggs and bacon.

 

“Why is everything…brown?”

 

Dean gave him a sidelong look as he put about a dozen pieces of bacon onto his plate. “Because brown is the best tasting colour. Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, Cas. At least have some bacon, everyone loves bacon.”  

 

Castiel couldn't help but frown as he used the tongs to pick out a piece of bacon. Next, he turned to the Hash Browns and added two of those before putting a spoonful of dark brown button mushrooms onto his plate.

 

Dean nodded sagely and then gestured to the tall metal vessel that contained the coffee. "Now try some coffee."

 

Dean pushed a Styrofoam cup into Castiel's free hand and pushed down the black lever to let out the coffee. Castiel brought it up to his nose. He had seen many human drinking this, cupped in their hands as though it was a precious gift. Castiel sniffed the steam and grimaced. "It smells very bitter."

 

Dean shrugged, "You'll get used to the taste and learn to like it." Dean moved away to find them seats and when Castiel turned around he was confronted with many curious faces. Suddenly, he was self-conscious, and began to regret indulging Dean and his whims.

 

This was not angelic behaviour; this was not what was expected of him. For the first time in a very long time, Castiel was concerned with what the other human’s thought of him. He felt ridiculous. Dean didn't seem to notice or care and he ushered Castiel over to a vacant table furthest from the food service. Castiel held back the impulse to stare down at the ground. He seated himself across from Dean and put his plate and cup on the table with no intention to touch either of them. Dean nudged a set of plastic cutlery over to him. There was a pause, an attrition of wills, as Dean and Castiel stared at each other.

 

Finally Dean gave in, "Try some, who cares what everyone else thinks? You're an angel, why should you give a shit?"

 

Castiel felt his wings twitch with irritation. "Exactly, I'm an angel. Yet here I am, pretending to be human." Dean rolled his eyes and stabbed at a Hash Brown. "Stop being dramatic Cas, eat."

 

At that Dean popped the first bite into his mouth and groaned dramatically at the taste. Castiel wondered if it really did taste that good or if Dean was just trying to trick him into eating. "Now your turn."

 

Castiel picked up his fork and jabbed it in Dean's direction. "Fine, I will indulge you. You did help me after all."

 

"Thatta boy."

 

Castiel felt himself flush but hid it as he looked down at his plate. Why was he blushing? He picked up a mushroom and popped it into his mouth. Immediately Castiel blanched at the taste and he saw Dean cover his mouth to hide his grin. Castiel forced himself to swallow it. "That was unpleasant…greasy, earthy taste."

 

"Try some bacon next."

 

With trepidation Castiel cut himself off a neat square of the bacon and then quickly put it into his mouth. He chewed it fast at first, then slow. Eventually he swallowed then looked at Dean. "That was…tasty, very greasy, but tasty."

 

Dean's eyes creased with the hint of a smile as he took a mouthful of his coffee. "I was beginning to worry." Castiel decided to copy Dean and try some of the coffee. "This, I like.” Although it was a little bitter, the rich taste was pleasant and Castiel took another mouthful eagerly. Dean chuckled and watched the angel across from him carefully.

“I wonder what happens when an angel gets a caffeine high…” Dean murmured ruefully as Castiel drank more and more from his cup.

 

"Dean?"

 

Castiel glanced up to see Sam. He too looked at them curiously. Though his curiosity seemed to shift between Dean and Castiel as they sat amicably together at the table. Dean went stiff  but then he quickly cleared his throat. "Hey Sammy, sit down, have some of my breakfast."

 

Sam nodded and meekly took the seat next to his brother. He looked across at Castiel and folded his hands on the table and he seemed uncomfortable, like he had disturbed some intimate moment. Humans were odd, Castiel decided.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks Castiel, so much. For helping me last night. I didn't know it would hurt you so much to do it. So…thanks."

 

Castiel shook his head and showed his wrists to Sam. "As you can see I have been healed by your brother."

 

Sam's head swiveled to face Dean, a pass was shared between the brothers, a look Castiel did not understand...again. But Castiel did understand the anger that darkened Sam’s face.

 

"I will let you two talk." Castiel stood and pushed his barely touched food to the middle of the table but took his coffee with him. "Thank you Dean. This was an interesting experience, I will see you tonight at your performance."

 

Dean nodded at that and sent him a grateful smile. Castiel felt the eyes of the humans on his back as he left.

 

+++

 

As soon as Castiel left, Sam turned to Dean his expression thunderous. "You healed him? Dean, we don't know what these powers will do to you. Castiel would have healed eventually; he's an angel after all! I appreciate you are trying to win him over to our side so you can get that necklace off, but that was an unnecessary risk."

 

Dean shrugged and ate another piece of bacon in order to give himself time to think. "You know he's not that bad - Cas, I mean. He taught me how to heal so tonight should be no problem." Sam opened his mouth to argue but then raised a finger questioningly. "Tonight?"

 

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you I've got my own performance tonight. I guess I gotta heal some shmuck."

 

Sam rubbed at the temples of his head and watched as Dean calmly sipped at his coffee. "So you like Cas then? What happened to all angels were scum and should have left humanity alone?"

 

Dean thickly swallowed a mushroom. "Guess he's not as bad as some of the other angels I've heard about. He stayed here to help humanity Sam, and this is what happened to him. I understand now, after what he told me. I'd be bitter too if I was him."

Sam considered the information. "So he's going to help us get out?"

 

Dean smiled, felt a rush of affection for the angel. But he didn’t quite understand why his heart clenched. "Yeah I guess he is."

 

+++

 

It wasn't long after breakfast, that Sam found him. Castiel stood in the tent with the Kelpie, watching the water horses' movements as it meandered about in its small tank. Sam came and stood next to Castiel giving him a sidelong look.

 

"Hello Sam."

Some of the tension left Sam as he smiled. "Hey Castiel. Thanks for helping me." Castiel gave him a questioning glace. "You already thanked me at breakfast."

Sam shrugged, "Yeah well you did save my life. If Crowley found out I wasn't going to make him money, I'd have been…"

 

Castiel stole a step closer to the tank and the Kelpie swam a little closer too. It nosed at the glass and Castiel put his hand against the cold damp glass.

 

"It likes you?"

 

Castiel hummed. "He has been here nearly as long as I and for a time my cage used to be next to his. Plus, a Kelpie would never harm an angel. I would provide no nutritional benefit."

 

The Kelpie's eyes moved to Sam, its lips peeled back to reveal it's sharp needle like teeth. "I have come to realise that you are not a demon Sam. I told Dean as much. Though you do have something demonic in you." Sam nodded. "Yeah, I know.” Castiel turned back to face Sam. "How did it happen?"

 

Sam sighed and took one of the folded seats from the side of the tent and sat on it. "I was stupid. I went to law school because I wanted to fight for equality for some of the supernatural beings, like yourself." Castiel's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Truly?"

 

Sam laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Seemed like a good idea at the time. When I was there, I met this girl, Ruby. We hit it off real fast and became fast friends. I thought I loved her…but she was a demon and yet when I found out about it, I didn’t care…I didn't think that would matter. I thought she was different." Castiel frowned at that but kept his silence.

 

"She just seemed so human. My whole family had been in the business of killing monsters; even I was in HUNTER until I left a few years ago. I’ve done my fair share of killing. I’ve seen what demons have done to people. Even so…” Sam's gaze shifted from Castiel's unable to hold the angel's eyes anymore as shame flooded him. "Even when she started to feed me her blood, telling me that it would help me understand her better, I still loved her."

 

At that Castiel made a small noise of understanding. "The blood can be driven out of you Sam. It is not a mistake you should have to live with. I can banish it. It's nothing more than a virus." Sam nodded and wiped a hand over his eyes.

 

"But I don't suppose this is why you came to talk to me."

 

Sam could finally meet Castiel's gaze again. "Dean's not feeling well after healing you. It's doing something to him and he won't tell me the whole story. He's lying to me. Maybe you'll have more luck, or be able to help him at least." Sam stood up from his chair and held out a hand to Castiel again. This time Castiel grasped it and shook it. "If you can trust an angel, I suppose I can trust a boy who made a mistake." Sam laughed and tightened his grip. "Boy?"

 

"Everyone is young to me. Where's your brother?"

 

Sam released his hand. "In our tent. I'm going to go and pretend to be practicing my powers." Sam left the tent but not before he looked Castiel up and down, and as though pleased with what he saw he smiled.

 

Humans were as confusing as ever Castiel thought with a sigh. Castiel opened the tent and blinked in the bright autumn daylight. The trees at the edges of the tents whispered when a breeze blew through them as Castiel made his way through the labyrinth of multicoloured tents.

 

Castiel entered the Winchesters tent and saw Dean huddled in his bed with his back to the entrance. Dean was shivering and the hand that clutched the blanket was pale.

 

There was a bucket at the side of the bed, full of the man’s half digested breakfast. Castiel pushed it out of the way as he came to Dean’s bedside. “Dean.”

 

The blankets moved at the sound of his voice and Dean turned over to give him a lopsided grin. “You were right about the food…shoulda stuck to coffee.” Castiel ignored him and put his hand to Dean’s forehead. Although the human grimaced, this time he did not push Castiel away. “You have a fever.” Castiel commented coolly as he drew his fingers away.

 

Dean nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. “Can you keep a secret from Sam?”

 

“Sam knows you are lying to him,” he stated simply. Then after a moment Castiel added, “But I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to.”

 

Dean’s fingers went to his necklace and he touched the cool bead that hung from it. “If this is angel magic, could you do something about it? It…whenever I use it to heal it uses my soul as energy. And I can’t take it off, not without getting out of here first.”

 

Castiel went rigid. A charm made for humans shouldn’t work in that way, it must have been a charm made for an angel. He never considered what might happen to a human who used an angelic charm. “I have made charms for humans in the past,” Castiel murmured. “They do not have to be designed in this way…this…this is messy work.”

Castiel reached out and traced the tip of his index finger over the charm. There was a darkness, like an ink spot, that surfaced and then dissolved back into the depths when he drew back. “It’s been cursed.”

 

Dean huffed out a breath. “Great. There isn’t anything you could do, is there?” Castiel shook his head. “No. Even though charms were my specialty, a curse is another thing entirely. I’m sorry Dean.” And Castiel realised, he truly was sorry; sorry that angels were once again ripping apart Dean’s life. Castiel bit his lip.

 

Dean took Castiel’s hand and gripped it tight. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” As though he suddenly realised what he was doing, Dean tried to tug his hand away but Castiel just held on tighter. Dean raised an eyebrow but gave up trying to take his hand away. Castiel felt the sweat of his fever burning at him. And now that he knew to look deeper he could sense the faint tremble of his soul as it tried to recover from the necklace. Castiel’s gaze fell to the ring Dean wore. The silver ring he had made for him all those years ago.

 

An idea formed in the angel’s mind. “There is something I can do - something to help you for a little while, at least.”

 

Castiel gripped the ring, sliding it off Dean’s finger. Castiel held the ring up to Dean and watched carefully for any sign of remembrance in his fever glassy eyes.

 

“Do you remember how you got this?”

 

Dean’s brow furrowed. “I’ve had it for as long as I can remember but…”

 

“A long time ago, when you were just a boy, shortly after you had lost your mother you came to The Menagerie. There, you helped an angel and he gave you this charm as thanks.”

 

Dean licked his lips as his eyes widened, gaze fixed on the ring. “That was you? I thought….I thought maybe it was you but I didn’t know what to say. I’m not great with words.”

 

Castiel closed his fingers around the ring. “Do you remember what I told you about this charm?”

 

There was a moment’s pause; Dean sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Nah, but I remember you…you were in a cage, and some brats were throwing stones at you.”

 

Castiel smiled at the memory - it was a happy one for him. “This ring, changes probability, fate, in favour of the wearer. If I can give it more power, it can help negate the effects of the necklace on you. You will not succumb so quickly.”

 

Dean stared at the ring, throat dry and his voice was a rough rasp when he spoke. “But…won’t you get hurt again? For using your powers like that?”

 

Castiel shrugged, great black wings rustling with the movement. “You….this is worth it.” How quickly things had changed, it wasn’t long ago that he was glaring daggers at this man and now…Castiel didn’t dare think on it. He held the ring tight in his hand as he concentrated on it. There was a warm little hum in the ring as though the charm remembered its creator. Castiel smiled, it felt like he was meeting an old friend. He worked along the pathways of powers, changing the invisible symbols and commands. He could feel the chains on his wings grow hotter as he pushed more power into the ring.

 

With a sigh, it was done and Castiel opened his hand. The ring was a little brighter, emitting a strange luminescence. Dean stared at him slack jawed and Castiel chuckled. “You had the same reaction when you were a child.”

 

Dean flushed at that and mumbled something Castiel didn’t hear. Without asking for permission Castiel slipped the ring onto his finger, noting a little dusting of freckles across Dean’s knuckles. Immediately, there was a change. Dean relaxed and his skin began to cool and his pulse slowed to a gentle rhythm.

 

There was a warm, happy little feeling inside of Castiel at that. One he couldn’t squash, despite the fact that the feeling was created when he looked at Dean. Dean sat up in bed and looked from the ring and then Castiel.

 

The air in the room became weighted as though they were both waiting. Dean must have felt it too for he sat up a little straighter and slid a little closer to Castiel. Castiel for his part, hardly moved. 

Every breath he took seemed to bring Dean closer until the human was so close to him that he could feel Dean’s breath brush across his skin. Then, slow, tentative and so strange Castiel for years after would remember the smallest details, Dean kissed him.

 

It was not a desperate kiss, but a chaste one - one where Dean’s lips smoothed over his in an intimate caress. They stayed with their lips connecting until Dean pulled back, eyes wide.

 

Castiel usually prided himself on being quick witted and ready for anything, but this…this was…

 

Standing, Castiel shot Dean a look, a look that was shared by the human. A terrified, rabbit in the headlights sort of gaze. Castiel stumbled a step backwards before leaving the tent.

 

+++

 

Dean's performance was in the afternoon and Castiel had not seen him since...

 

Castiel shifted on the fallen log. The memory made him flush hot. Why did he let Dean kiss him? Castiel put his fingers to his lips and they tingled oddly with the smallest touch. He was being pathetic, like the maidens in stories who pined over princes. He was better than that; he was an angel for pity’s sake.

 

He looked up into the sky and put a hand to his heart. He had resolved to help both Sam and Dean escape and he wanted to escape too. Yet the knowledge of what had happened to Anna left him terrified. And despite the promise of freedom, he could not shake the ominous feeling of what would happen if he was caught.

 

His fingers clenched in his trench coat but all of those worries about being turned into something like Anna didn’t matter anymore. Castiel could not change his heart or his mind now. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose. He was a fool.

 

But could he ever truly love Dean, or be happy with him? Dean was a human - he hated angels. An angel had killed his mother in cold blood. These feelings Castiel harbored would result in nothing but pain and suffering. After all this was the way with humans. Happy endings were a fallacy. Dean could never truly love him, could he?

 

Was an angel even capable of feeling love, the way that humans experienced it? Not love for an absent father but love for a flawed and transient piece of creation.

 

Castiel stood up and turned away from the edge of the forest reentering “The Menagerie grounds. The very least he would do is talk to Dean, see what he made of the kiss.

 

It was a strange alien feeling that was beginning to grow and make itself known in the hollow of his chest. What he felt towards Dean was like duty and affection, but was not quite either of those things. What he had with Dean was an infatuation, but a pleasant one nonetheless. Or so he tried to tell himself.

 

Charlie walked past and Castiel caught her arm. She startled and instinctively tried to pull her arm away and Castiel let her do so. Charlie stared at him in open terror. "C-Castiel?"

 

"I am looking for Dean's performance tent."

Charlie seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "He's in the green tent with the silver ivy pattern. Just as an FYI, his performance is set to start in twenty minutes." Charlie hesitated a moment but then let the words tumble from her mouth in a verbal vomit. "Do you have permission to attend?"

 

Castiel quirked an eyebrow and intentionally made his wings rattle the chains. "Do I need it?"

 

Charlie cowered under his gaze. "I guess not."

 

Castiel dipped his head in thanks and began to wander off to find the tent. Charlie at least gave him some respect. Castiel liked Charlie.

 

"Hey Cas!" A hand slapped his shoulder.

 

 _Unlike some other humans_ , he thought, as he turned to face Dean, whose grin stretched from ear to ear. “You like my new duds?"

 

Castiel looked Dean up and down. Dean was wearing a loose grey shirt with silver ivy buttons and well tailored, dark green trousers, Dean looked amazing. Though, Dean would look handsome in almost anything but instead of saying that he replied, "It's gaudy, like everything else here."

 

Dean pouted at that. "So I look the part then?"

 

Castiel nodded and went into Dean's tent. It was small but everything inside was expensive and tasteful, from the silk cushions to silver lanterns. This must have been one of The Menagerie's more precious, exclusive tents. "Crowley must be charging a small fortune for people to see you."

 

This was nothing but idle conversation, but it was hiding something much more dangerous and uncomfortable. They were both acting as if nothing had changed between them. It made Castiel’s wings twitch in their bindings.

 

Dean looked at the small collection of chairs. "Really? I just thought I wasn't popular, I mean it’s so small..."

 

Castiel noted the nervous little shiver that went through Dean and he found himself reaching out for the man before he realized it. "You have already proved that you are more than capable of using your powers Dean. I know you can do it."

 

Self-conscious Castiel drew his hand away and Dean watched it leave, as though Castiel had left a burn. "Yeah, I guess….Look Castiel, about before…” Dean stared at him, serious, and then with a sigh he walked away.

 

Castiel yearned to know what Dean was thinking but it could wait. Clenching his jaw, Castiel took his position at the back of the room and he watched Dean as he sat on the edge of the stage. Any minute now the guests should start to arrive, and sure enough, the tent entrance shifted with movement.

 

Dean looked over to him and Castiel nodded.

 

More than a few of the guests cast the angel a wondering glance as they walked by him and took their seats. Dean shuffled nervously at the front of the room and plucked at his new shirt.

 

Once the select group was seated, a man came out from the side of the stage.  Castiel recognised him as one of the new workers. Around his forearm was a thick bandage and a dark stain coloured it. Dean had obviously been briefed before as Castiel saw himself calm down, step forward and then gesture stiffly to the injured employee.

 

"Uh, I'm going to heal him."

 

Dean would never make a showman Castiel thought ruefully.

 

That said, Dean took a step over to the man and unfurled the bandage. The cut underneath was grisly; long, jagged and a furious red. Dean calmly placed his palm against the cut, which made the man wince. A subtle light began to effuse itself into the man's skin, the light growing in strength as the seconds went by. Castiel watched carefully as the skin began to mend itself back together.

 

Yet it was the secondary light that caught his attention. The necklace that Dean wore also emitted a light, much fainter than the healing but noticeable enough only for Castiel to see it with his enhanced sight. The ring should help Dean or at least Castiel hoped it would.

 

The employee left the stage, but there was no thunderous applause. In fact, the audience was strangely quiet. Only the sound of a respirator, it's sucking, and grating noise filled the temporary quiet.

 

Castiel looked over to the man. He wore a black suit, his hair was white and clung to his scalp like stubborn alpine moss.  Strapped across his face was an oxygen mask. The man was also in a wheelchair. To put it mildly, the man looked like death warmed over.

 

From the side of the stage someone else emerged. Castiel was taken aback to see Gordon his hand cradled against his chest. It was plain to see that his hand had been broken from the strange angle it jutted out from his wrist. This healing would be far more complicated.

 

Undeterred, Dean went up to Gordon and took his hand from his chest, none too gently and wrapped his fingers around the injury. The glow started up again and the white light began to flood the space. All of the audience turned away from the searing light, all except one, the man in the wheelchair, his gaze transfixed.

 

Once the light had abated the audience looked back at Gordon, freshly healed, who clenched and unclenched his hand for all to see. This time the audience clapped enthusiastically.  Dean on the other hand looked wretched, his skin pale and sweaty. Castiel’s wings strained against the chains. If this went on for much longer, then there would be permanent damage done to Dean’s soul.

 

Gordon left the stage and Dean approached the edge to address the crowd. "Thank you for coming to see my first performance. Enjoy the rest of your day."

 

The man in the wheelchair was wheeled out and Castiel breathed out a sigh of relief, something about the man had felt _wrong_. The rest of the crowd slowly trickled away until it was just Castiel and Dean left inside the tent. “How are you feeling Dean?”

 

Dean sighed as he sat down on the edge of the stage, “I’ll be okay.”

 

Castiel inhaled a breath and steeled himself, unable to keep himself from asking his question anymore. “Do you regret it?” The angel simply couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘kiss’.

 

At that Dean looked away from Castiel, the line of his jaw hard as he ground his teeth together. “Fuck Cas, you ain’t even human. I know you aren’t like that asshole that killed my mom but…” At those words Dean had to collect himself again and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “But how could I forget that? I’ve been hunting monsters my whole life and…”

 

Castiel nodded, he had expected this kind of answer. Although he could admit to himself now that there was no chance, that he had hoped Dean’s answer would have been different. “And I’m one of them to you?”

 

Dean’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know. You seem like a good guy, but…maybe it was a mistake.”

 

Castiel could accept that. He shouldn’t get any more involved with humans, not with what happened before. Castiel strode out form the tent as he reflected on the foolishness of caring too much for a human.

 

_Every Thursday for thirty years he had received a prayer from the green eyed soldier. And every year on the anniversary of the man’s healing, Castiel went to see him. It had become their routine._

_The green-eyed soldier’s name was Decanus and every year he grew older but Castiel stayed the same._

_Castiel was alone, had left his Garrison behind to guard a village from a persistent raiding party of demons. However, Castiel found he could not concentrate on his task for he was worried. It was a Thursday and his prayer had not come. Castiel wandered in the forest, the gossamer moon and still atmosphere doing nothing to calm him. Pausing, Castiel swore in Enochian before flying to Decanus’ home._

_It was a quaint small place, for Decanus had never found love. Numerous times Castiel had told him that it was part of a human’s purpose to find someone and bond with them but every time Decanus countered with a sad little smile and said ‘a warrior has no need for romance’._

_Castiel slipped off his icy gauntlets before entering the cottage. It was dark, no fire crackled pleasantly in the hearth._

_“Decanus?”_

_A strained breath and his name drew Castiel’s attention to the bed that Decanus was in. As soon as Castiel looked at him, he could see the shadow of a Reaper next to his bed, ready to claim his soul._

_Castiel went to Decanus and crouched down at the side of his bed. The young warrior whom he had healed with his vibrant eyes and sun soaked skin was no more. Decanus was now an old man, hair white and gaze misted._

_Decanus looked at him and smiled. “You came to see me one last time?”_

_Castiel nodded and his heart clenched with pain. “Yes.”_

_There was no cure for old age, though Castiel wanted to reach out and snatch this man right out from under the Reaper’s nose._

_“No one should die alone.” Castiel murmured as he gazed down at his human friend._

_Decanus reached out for him and his wizened hand lightly gripped his. “I did not worry, I had faith in you.”_

_Castiel frowned at that. “Why?”_

_Decanus showed him that meaningful, cheerless smile again. “Because I love you.”_

_Castiel froze in place, his eyes widening He had had no idea. They were friends. His mind was a flurry of confusion. “You told me that a warrior didn’t need love.”_

_An odd sort of laugh left Decanus. “But **you** don’t, do you?”_

_Castiel bit his lip. “I…I thought you were talking about yourself.”_

_Decanus’s fingers tightened. “I’ve loved you for a long time now Castiel but I knew it would be a burden for you. I was afraid you wouldn’t come to see me anymore.”_

_Hot tears pricked at Castiel’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t…I can’t feel that way about a human.”_

_Decanus nodded, white hair whispering against his pillow. “I know…all I ask from you Castiel, is to keep caring for humanity, don’t give up on us humans” With that Decanus’ eyes closed for the last time and the Reaper stole away his soul._

_For many hours Castiel sat at Decanus’ bedside and held the dead man’s hand._


	6. Horseman Famine

Castiel sat in his tent alone.

 

The Menagerie would not be here much longer. Castiel stared up into the ceiling from his nest before rolling onto his side, feeling the chains dig into the bones of his wings. He had told Decanus he could not feel the same way a human did, that angel’s were different and did not have the capacity for that kind of love. Yet, he had felt a pang in his heart, an ache that he knew had something to do with yearning and misery. Dean had done that to him.

  
Should he hate him for that, for how he had changed him, or be happy?  
These emotions were new, complex, and he needed time to sort through them before making up his mind.

 

"Castiel!"

 

Castiel sat up, alert. Sam stood at the entrance, one hand holding back the flap so that the cool night air flooded inside. "Dean's gone missing." Sam swallowed and looked imploringly at him. "I didn't know who else to go to, I know he hasn't run Cas, he wouldn't leave me here."

 

Castiel stood up and grabbed his trench coat from a chair. "I believe you Sam. We'll find him."

 

Sam relaxed marginally and stood back to allow Castiel outside. "What do you think has happened?" Sam asked.

 

That creeping terror from the man in the wheelchair came back to Castiel. His old angelic instincts told him that the old man was the culprit. Castiel slipped his arms into the trench coat and shuffled his wings through the holes cut into the coat. "It's happened a few times. Sometimes an audience member takes an interest in a creature; whether they are powerful, useful or beautiful, and tries to take them from The Menagerie."

 

Sam stopped to stare at Castiel. "Has this happened to you?"

 

"Many times, if I became unbound I could do many things. It’s possible this is what has happened to Dean, but do not fret. He will be nearby due to the binding magic Crowley has on him."

 

Sam nodded and set his jaw into a determined line and walked alongside Castiel.

 

Castiel felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably and a cool sweat began to coat his back. Though what Castiel said was true, he decided not to think about what some of the visitors did to creatures they stole. Sam did not need to know of the mutilated messes. Castiel curled his hand into a fist.

 

Castiel extended the tendrils of his Grace and spread his awareness outwards, like an octopus probes and feels its surroundings. He felt many human lives, vibrant yet messy spots amidst the calm of the world. He looked for a point of light that was a little brighter than the rest, which held something righteous and even something a little Heavenly about it. Dean was distinct from the rest.

 

A thumping headache began to pulse at the front of his skull as he used his powers, until he found Dean. Castiel held out a hand to stop Sam from taking another step.

 

Sam flicked his wide eyes to him as Castiel pointed to a small dark tent on the peripheries of The Menagerie. “Dean is in there.”

 

The area around the tent seemed darker and deeper than anywhere else but Sam did not seem to see this, or care, as he strode forwards and entered the tent.

 

“Sam!” Castiel bit out, as quietly as he could. With an Enochain curse buzzing on his lips Castiel followed after him and entered the tent. Immediately, Castiel felt something wrong with the air.

 

The smell of death was thick, the same aroma that a reaper let off as it came in to claim a soul. There was a pained cry that was quickly muffled. Castiel raised his hand and let a bright blue light dance at the edge of his fingertips.

 

The first thing he saw was Sam, unconscious, with an ugly streak of blood running down his temple. There was a man over him, holding a gun that was pointed to Sam.

 

Castiel saw another man with a gun, this time pointed at him. Castiel instinctively tried to flare his wings in a threat display, but this only had the effect of making the man smirk as the chains rattled.

 

Then there was a bang. Castiel felt the bullet rip through his shoulder and out through his wing. He cried out and fell to his knees. He squeezed his eyes closed against the pain and tried his best to breathe through it.

 

“So nice for you to join us.” Came a fragile, sinister voice.

 

Castiel looked up and into the eyes of the old man in the wheelchair. At the side of his chair, on his knees was Dean, a gag tied tight around his head.

 

"I am an angel…My healing ability is far greater than his, so let him and his brother go." Why was he saying this? Did he really care enough for Dean to kill himself? After all, with his Grace bound it would take his death to heal this old man. Castiel licked his lips, eyes fluttering with the pain of the gunshot. He did care enough. The thought terrified and confused him.

 

The old man pulled the oxygen mask from his face and wheezed out from his jagged yellow teeth. "So can you heal me?"

 

Castiel set his teeth. "If you release me from these chains, I can do much more than heal you. I can turn back the clock, give you back your youth." It was a lie, no one could set back the clock but this old man didn’t know that.

 

The man looked intrigued for a moment. "And how would I do this?"

 

Castiel closed his eyes; he could not bear to look at Dean's fearful eyes. Releasing his Grace was not an easy task, using Dean would be far quicker but he tried to think of something, _anything_. His pause seemed to go on for too long as the old man continued, "Mr. Winchester, I now have your brother, if you do not heal me, I will kill him."

 

After a moment Castiel heard movement and opened his eyes again. Dean stood over the man and put a hand on his shoulder. Dean looked to Castiel, and then withdrew a breath, before he began the healing.

 

A soft white light began to fill the tent, and the man sagged back against the wheelchair as he sighed in satisfaction. "More…" Castiel heard him urge, "More…"

 

Dean gasped in pain, blood trickled fast from his nostrils and his eyes rolled back in his head as he stood at the crippled man’s side. Even with his powers subdued Castiel could feel Dean's soul leaving him, only to enter the body of the old man.

 

Castiel felt despair claw at him.

 

He had failed Decanus, had acted too late - he had failed Anna too and now, was he really going to fail again? He cared for Dean, more than he should, more than what was wise and rational. At that moment, he realised, that an angel could love a human. He felt it with certainty as the reaper’s invisible presence closed in on Dean.

 

Castiel dove into himself, deep into the recesses of his Grace that he had dared not touch for the chains and spells upon him. He dragged it out, he broke and fractured the parts of himself that made him an angel. He would protect this boy, this boy who was kind to him despite the fact that he had said he hated angels.

 

He felt his feathers burning, their acrid stench began to fill the tent and the man that held a gun on him stepped back with fear. Castiel stepped forward, with wrath and brilliance that shone hot like stars in his eyes. There was a heat at his back, a crushing terrible pain on the bones of his wrists. Yet Castiel turned to look upon the two hired men. He looked upon them as the embodiment of mercilessness.

 

As Castiel filled himself with his Grace, the thugs started to feel true fear. The first raised his hands in defence as Castiel got closer and Castiel held onto the man’s hand, even as blood sluiced down his forearms and stained his trench coat. He found the pathetic soul inside and crushed it. The man crumpled to the ground, eyes burned out of their sockets. Disheartened, or just plain terrified, the other man dropped his gun and ran.

 

It was with a strange, heady thrill that Castiel turned to the old man. Today he was not a performer at The Menagerie, nor was he the loveless warrior he once thought he was. Today he was himself. _Finally_.

 

He strode up to the man, and pried Dean's hand off his shoulder replacing it with his own.

 

His wings screamed, he knew without looking that they were on fire for he could hear them crackling. The old man began to scream as Castiel snuffed out his soul without mercy. With his powers fading, the process took longer than it should have. The man howled in agony at the slow deterioration of his soul, yet Castiel could not find it in himself to care.

 

When he felt the man's heart still and the reaper claim the old man’s soul, he let go and was dimly aware of closing his eyes and falling…

 

_C…Cas…Cas!_

 

Castiel came back to himself, blinking. How long had he been unconscious? He was on the floor and Dean was in front of him, hands on his shoulders. "Come back to me man."

 

Castiel looked at Dean and saw the blood that had grown sticky and congealed from his nose. "I'm back." He whispered, voice more gravel rough than usual. Dean's head bowed in relief and he let out a puff of air. "Thought I'd lost you.” Castiel tilted his head to the side. "I was…afraid.” He didn’t know why he said it, the words came from him without permission.

 

Dean shook his head and stared down at him. "Of what?”

 

Castiel opened his mouth, and hesitated. He shouldn’t say it. Dean didn’t feel the same way. "Of you dying.”

 

Dean’s green eyes widened and Castiel felt his hands tremble on his shoulders before an enveloping darkness consumed him.

 

_Cas…Cas!?_

+++

 

When Castiel awoke again he was slumped in a chair. He looked around; Dean and Sam were also in two chairs next to him. As his eyes absorbed his surroundings, Castiel felt uneasy. He had never been in this tent before; everything inside was red and black, like a rotten apple.

 

"Good you're awake."

 

Castiel tried to turn to find the voice but couldn't. He looked down at his wrists and at his ankles and saw that he was bound to the chair. Sam and Dean were not bound like him, he noticed.

 

"Now, now, now, what are we going to do with you Castiel?" Came the silken, voice again. Castiel knew this voice, but had never seen its owner.

 

"Crowley?" He asked, with a hint of trepidation.

 

"I've gotten the whole story Castiel. What you did went beyond what was necessary…and that can't go unpunished, now can it? Sam and Dean, you may return to your tent."

 

Dean's gaze shot to Castiel. "He saved me! Why does he…?"

 

Castiel licked his lips, tasted blood on them. "Go Dean."

 

Dean shook his head again in disbelief. Castiel looked away and after a moment he heard Dean and Sam leave him alone with Crowley. After all, there was nothing they could do. If Crowley wanted, he could simply order them to leave using the magic in their cuffs. Castiel was ragged with exhaustion and wrought with the residual pain of his binding spells but he tried to keep his focus. Castiel stared at a statue of a golden snake curled around a large piece of obsidian. "What's going to happen now?"

 

Crowley breathed out a sigh behind him, laced with insincerity. "I could make you into something like Anna or I could torture you…better yet I might finally rip out your wings? Which would you like Castiel?"

 

Castiel's heart palpitated but he tiled his chin upwards, tried to find an ounce of bravery. "Just get on with it." He hated himself for how his voice shook.

 

The hand slipped from his trench coat. "As you wish darling."

The word was punctuated by an excruciating stabbing pain, being driven into the muscles of his wings.

 

Castiel bit his lip. He would not scream.

 

+++

 

His Grace flickered and pulsed inside him, an ember that was dying. It would most likely not survive. He would Fall - he was so close to the edge all he needed was one final push and Castiel would be human. Despite that, the little piece of his remaining Grace pulsed a little brighter and grew a little larger as they began to repair themselves.

 

Castiel awoke with a gasp that sent pain radiating through him. His ribs were broken, that was immediately apparent as each breath he took was fiery agony. He lay still on his back, careful not to move. When he opened his eyes he gazed up into Dean’s face. His normally bright jade eyes were wet and red.

 

“You need to be more careful.” Dean murmured petulantly but with a fragile smile. Castiel huffed out a breath and winced. “You need to stop getting me into trouble.” Castiel was glad that he was here at all and the light tone kept him from feeling too sorry for himself.

 

But that smile fractured and Dean sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “I’m so sorry Cas.”

 

Castiel sighed. “It’s not your fault.” It was Crowley’s, it was that old man’s. Dean was certainly not to blame.

 

Dean quickly wiped his hand across his eyes and then stared down at him. There was a long pause and Castiel could almost hear the gears grinding in Dean’s head. “I’m still not sure if it was a mistake or not.”

 

Castiel’s breath was frozen in his lungs. He knew what he was referring to, the kiss, and it was so much more important than the sharp aches and pains of his body.

 

Dean leaned down over him, careful and hesitant almost as if he was going to kiss him again. But then at the last moment Dean drew away. Regardless, Castiel reveled in the tiny tender moment. He wished that Dean would kiss him again, even if it was out of pity. He would take even that. But he was too tired to fight with Dean, to fight for the man’s affection. He had nearly destroyed himself to save Dean, he was beyond saving now. Whatever happened he would love Dean, even if it was one sided.

 

Dean turned to gaze at him Castiel felt himself shrink under the intensity of it. Castiel wanted to shrink from it. “What is it?”

Dean closed his eyes to compose himself and then he quickly began to speak. “After that display…what you’ve done for me… I don’t think you’re a monster Cas. Angels are like humans I reckon, there are the good ones and there are the bad ones.”

 

Castiel felt something warm and wet slide over his cheek. “Thank you Dean.” Castiel held the man’s gaze. He had something to admit as well, even if he wasn’t sure Dean wanted to hear it. “For a very long time I did not think I was capable of loving anything other than my Father.”

 

Dean brushed his thumb over Castiel’s cheek and captured the tear. He rubbed the tear away into the skin of his index finger and thumb. “And now?”

 

“I think I have room to love a lot more. But you…you don’t feel the same.”

 

Dean sucked in a breath and Castiel wondered if he had gone too far. “I do…this is so weird. I always thought I’d hate angels ‘til the day I died, but I think we deserve a chance.”

 

Castiel tensed and then winced when he pulled his wounds. Dean had changed his mind? Was this just another mistake? As though Dean could read his thoughts he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know that was sudden. I suck at these things Cas. But despite trying not to like you, I do.” Dean scowled at him, “Just get some rest.”

 

Castiel smiled and nodded, then felt his eyes slip closed.

 

That night, Castiel dreamed of Decanus.

 

He saw the old warrior, thousands of years old step back from him. Castiel did not love him he realised, the way that Decanus had loved him. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been capable of loving a human but that he hadn’t met the right one yet. In the dream a mist swallowed his old friend and out of it stepped Dean.

 

The human held out his hand, fingers parting the mist and Castiel took it. The grip warm and strong and Castiel knew he would never want to let go.

 

+++

 

Castiel blinked back to awareness. Sunlight streamed into his tent from the open doorway. There was a silhouette there, obscured by the brightness. “Dean?”

 

The man in the doorway turned and stepped inside, letting the flap close and Dean smiled at him. “Hey Cas.”

 

In his hand was a coffee and Dean set it aside as he crouched down at Castiel’s nest of pillows. Gently, he put a hand to Castiel’s back and helped him sit up and hastily rearranged his pillows to support him.

 

He should grumble about this, tell Dean he was not a baby to be coddled but he could not find it in him to care, the air in the tent was so intimate and peaceful. Once seated properly Dean passed Castiel his coffee.

 

Carefully, Castiel took it from him. When he looked at his hands they were purple with bruises. Yet he could twitch his fingers and move his wrists. The cuffs had broken his wrists he remembered. Alarmed, Castiel looked to Dean. “How long have I been asleep?”

 

Dean rolled his shoulders and readjusted himself to sit next to Castiel in his nest. “Three days.”

 

Castiel almost dropped his coffee and the corners of Dean’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Yeah. I’ve had to look after your sorry ass.”

 

There was a heat at Castiel’s cheeks at the thought of being a burden. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Drink your coffee.”

 

Castiel complied and took a sip of the hot beverage. It felt wonderful as it sank low in his gut, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. In the corner of his eye he watched as Dean shuffled around him.

 

All of a sudden there were hands on his wings and Castiel gasped, back going ramrod straight.

 

“Is this okay?” Dean asked from behind, hands leaving his burned wings for a moment. Castiel hummed and glanced over his shoulder. Dean was so close that he could count the myriad of freckles that dusted his skin. “Yes.”

 

Dean licked his lips and put his hands on his wings again. Castiel turned back around and closed his eyes as he drank his coffee and let Dean’s fingers explore. He felt them move along his muscles, massaging them and every so often he felt a pleasant soothing tingle as Dean used his healing energy, let it trickle into his skin.

 

Castiel put his coffee down and shivered at the sensations. Dean’s fingers were tracking lower on his wings and delved under the harder layer of feathers and was exploring the soft downy layer underneath.

 

A groan spilled from Castiel unbidden. There was a soft breathy laugh from Dean. “Does that feel good? Not too much longer and I’ll have healed your wings completely.”

 

Castiel nodded his head and spread his wings as far as his chains would allow. “Don’t push yourself Dean, the ring can only-“ There was a broken whimper from Castiel as Dean’s fingertips found a tight line of muscle and he began to work on it, massing it deeply. “Cas. Quit your bitchin’. I’m doing this, whether you think it’s ‘wise’ or not.”

 

Castiel swallowed his retort.

  
Dean’s fingers mapped his wings. They delved under his feathers and healed the burns from the chains and the cuts of Crowley’s blade. The only sounds that filled the air was the rustle of feathers and the relaxed, pleased little mewls from Castiel as he let the human at his back work.

 

After a time, Dean drew his hands away and Castiel shifted back, put his wings closer to Dean, silently demanding for more. “My hands are sore Cas. Later.”

 

Castiel shook himself out of his daze and folded his wings tightly against himself. “Sorry.” Pleasure and contentment curled loose and lazy low in Castiel’s gut, and he could feel a blush on his cheeks. The cushions shifted as Dean stood and he looked down at Castiel with a smirk. Castiel tiled his head to the side. “What?”

 

“Guess you really liked that.” Dean remarked cockily.

 

Castiel shifted and tried to hide the blush on his cheeks as he turned away. “My wings are like exposed nerve endings. Normally, an angel would not have their wings out like this….”

 

Dean waved away Castiel’s excuse as he left the tent again. As soon as he left Castiel put his face into his hands and groaned into his fingers. They had barely gotten over the fact that they had shared a chaste kiss and here he was, moaning over an innocent little massage. A being several millennia old should have more restraint.

 

Then, Castiel looked down at his body to see what remained of Crowley’s lesson.

 

He lifted up his shirt; it was clean and free of blood. Dean must have changed his clothes whilst he slept. There were lines of dark bruises around his ribs, though they were not broken anymore and a few puffy pink lines down his breastbone. A flash of memory assaulted Castiel, of a dull ragged knife tearing apart his skin. Castiel let his shirt fall back down. He’d had worse in the war. Next, he looked over his shoulder. Dean had worked a small miracle on him. Never would he forget the hard deep cuts Crowley had made in the muscles of his wings. At times, during that night, Castiel had thought he was going to rip out his wings entirely.

 

But his black wings, his angelic pride, had remained intact though a little worse for wear. There were bandages around the bases of his wings, stained with a bit of fresh blood but when Castiel twitched his wings, there was hardly any pain. Reaching over his shoulder Castiel ran his fingers along his feathers. Some were burned and would fall out soon to be replaced by new ones.

 

His own accelerated healing and Dean’s powers had saved him weeks of agonized recovery. Castiel let his hand slip off his feathers and he pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled for a moment and his wings flared to balance himself instinctively, which made the chains groan. Castiel slipped on his trench coat, and a pair of shoes without bothering to put on socks and stepped outside.  

 

The grounds were peaceful. Rainwater had collected in spots in the mud and reflected the blue sky where wisps of soft clouds scudded along. Earthy smoke and the smells of meat cooking laced the air.

 

“Hey Castiel, how are you feeling?” A voice asked, though Castiel recognised it as Sam’s and he turned to face him. “I’m good.”

 

Sam nodded and gave him a gentle smile. “Dean was really worried about you. So was I, of course.”

 

Castiel would _not_ blush again. But it pleased him all the same to hear that Dean had been worried about him. In the corner of his vision Castiel saw Dean, in his hand was a bacon sandwich and he cautiously approached them. “What are you two talking about?” Sam turned his gaze away sheepishly and Dean shot him a glare.

 

“Did I miss anything while I was unconscious? Other than we have obviously moved to a new town.” Castiel asked as he looked between the two brothers.

Dean took a bite of his sandwich and chewed through it whilst speaking; “How could you even tell? It’s muddy, just like where we were before and on the edge of a park.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, “Probably because he’s an angel.”

 

Dean shrugged and swallowed and this time he seemed tense and his gaze slipped from Castiel’s. “What?” Castiel asked as trepidation curled tight in his belly.

 

“Crowley’s decided to punish us three. It’s some twisted bullshit. He’s making us go perform in the big top, for the whole crowd.”

 

Castiel was speechless for a moment, heart skipping a beat. “I’m not powerful enough to handle both Sam’s role and my own. It would give us away.”

 

Dean nodded, drew the sandwich away from his lips. “I know, that’s why we’ve got until the end of the week to think of a plan and escape.”

 

Castiel snorted derisively, gaze burrowing into Dean. “I have been trapped here for decades and haven’t found a way to escape. You think you can do it in a few days?”

 

Sam laughed and lightly slapped Castiel’s shoulder. “We’re the Winchesters, we’ll figure something out.”

 

Castiel’s brow furrowed, his confusion clear. “I do not understand how humans can be so optimistic in the face of failure.”

At that Dean laughed. “Well ain’t you a ray of sunshine big bird.”

 

Castiel growled out an Enochian curse, “I’m not a bird Dean.”

 

Sam this time joined in with Dean’s laugh. “I’ll go speak to Charlie, see if I can get something useful out of her.” With that Sam strode away, a meaningful look cast in Dean’s direction as he went. Whatever it meant, Castiel could not decide. But it seemed to anger and embarrass Dean, given the finger he flipped in Sam’s direction and the blush that dusted the tops of his ears.

 

Castiel walked away and Dean immediately followed him as he passed him the uneaten half of his bacon sandwich. Castiel took it without comment. In the corner of his eye he saw Dean smile as he took his first bite.

 

“So you thought of any escape plans?” Dean asked as he hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. Castiel shook his head. “Nothing really, The Menagerie moves, new people come and go, not conducive to forming a plan.”

 

As Castiel spoke a large truck pulled up. Castiel paused and watched it carefully. They opened the back of the truck and as soon as the light flooded inside there was an unholy screech, one that spoke of hunger and viciousness.

 

“They have a fucking Wendigo in there?” Dean asked with wide eyes.

 

Castiel nodded in answer to Dean’s question. Two men stepped inside the back of the truck and hoisted a cage down. On the ground there was a tall metal box that shook and moved with the sounds of the trapped Wendigo. There were three slits in the metal box for viewing the monster.

 

Castiel gestured to the bottom of the box for Dean. “Under the Wendigo’s feet is a grate, which can be ignited from the outside through the small hole at the back.” It wasn’t very common to get a Wendigo at The Menagerie but Castiel had seen a few in his time.

 

Dean hummed at that and then scratched the space behind his ear. “So they keep the Wendigo in there, let the customers get their rocks off and then oven bake it when it’s past its due by date?”

 

Castiel slowly processed the words, Dean spoke in riddles but he got the idea of it. “That’s right, Wendigos are untrainable and so can only be displayed like this. Although they did try a few years back,” Castiel remembered, with a small barely there smirk. No one had gotten killed and it had proved amusing.

 

Dean stared at him and he shook his head. “You can be pretty scary sometimes you know that?”

Castiel shrugged, “I suppose.”

 

They walked away from the Wendigo, with its frustrated screams pummeling their backs. Castiel and Dean wandered The Menagerie aimlessly, stepping through puddles and Castiel munching on his sandwich. With a frustrated growl Dean held out a hand to stop Castiel, fingers splayed against the lapels of his trench coat.

 

"You know, something has been bothering me about the whole thing with Crowley." Deans started.

 

Castiel bit out a laugh. "Other than, essentially being his slave of course?"

 

Dean shot Castiel a half heated glare and then dropped it as he planted his hands on his hips. "Well, doesn't it make you curious that he never wants you to see him? And seems particularly cautious around you?"

 

Castiel nodded. "Of course, but many humans are frightened of me. The possibility of him being a demon has occurred to me but I find it unlikely. Owning The Menagerie would mean he would have to interact with HUNTER.”

 

Dean let out a sigh and signaled for Castiel to follow him. He led them to the outskirts of the gathered tents, where watchful eyes and receptive ears would hear no more of their mutinous conversation. Castiel stopped instinctively when he felt the restraints on him tighten in warning not to go any further.

 

"I was part of HUNTER, my dad was part of HUNTER. Heck, it's the family business so I know a bit or two about that organisation. The mission is to hunt all supernatural creatures and protect people right?"

 

Castiel nodded, he had never had any direct contact but that was what he was led to believe. He once had a brush with them when they first began to form, out of the warriors that had faced Lucifer's armies, but the current organisation was a whole different entity.

 

"Well," Dean continued, "Sometimes the higher ups make certain decisions, I was high enough up to hear about it but I had 'attitude problems'..." Dean highlighted the words with air quotations, which only served to confuse Castiel again. "But sometimes, protecting people came before killing things. Maybe HUNTER knows about Crowley, maybe they don't care seeing as how The Menagerie is a force of its own." Dean gestured to Castiel. "I mean look at you, any hunter would have had a hard time bringing you down and instead Crowley has done it for us. So HUNTER might have thought that for the greater good they could let one demon slide."

 

Castiel digested the information, turned away from Dean for a moment. "Crowley has not always run The Menagerie…It's been in his family for generations, or so I've been told."

 

Dean smirked, a playful glint in his eye that promised danger. "How about we sneak into his tent? See what dirt we can uncover."

 

Castiel immediately felt a cold fear that paralyzed his tongue for a moment as he remembered Crowley's sharp blade cutting and slicing into his flesh. "No Dean, it's too dangerous. If we were found out..."

 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "If Crowley is a demon, this could be our key out of here. We could get him in a Devil’s Trap; force him to release you, Sam and me. If he doesn’t, we exorcise that black eyed son of a bitch…unless you’ve got some other escape plan up your sleeve."

 

Castiel worried his lower lip with his teeth. He looked to Dean, in the bright sunlight, the dusting of freckles over his face and felt his heart ache. "If I lost you, it would be..." Castiel didn’t want to think on it long, he had no idea what it would do to him, now that he had admitted to himself that he cared for Dean.

 

The ache grew tighter and more pronounced and Castiel found himself speaking his fears. "I..I can't lose you, I lo..."

 

Those words hung in the air, dangerous and Dean's face darkened with something indiscernible. Dean stepped forward, he placed his hands soft and gentle against Castiel's cheeks. Castiel flinched, tried to step back but Dean just held on tighter. "Fuck Cas, you can't wait until we’re free can you?"

 

Castiel couldn't breathe, could only stare back into Dean's intense stare. "But there's no point in us going anywhere near those feelings if you're going to give up. I can't stay here Cas, I gotta do this. For Sam."

 

Castiel closed his eyes. "I'm scared." Dean rubbed his thumbs along the cheekbones of Castiel's face. "Yeah but we've got each other's backs. We'll figure this out, together." Castiel opened his eyes and Dean was smiling at him. "Okay, let's do it."

 

Dean grinned and his hands slipped off Castiel's face. "That's my angel."

Castiel looked away, murmured something intelligible and then turned on his heel.

 

Castiel led the way to Crowley's tent, his heart in his throat. Never had he been a coward when he was a warrior. Humans had taught him fear. Castiel hid it as best as he could, he squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw. After a minute of walking, Crowley's tent came into view. There was a guard outside, meaning that Crowley was elsewhere. Breathing out a sigh Castiel met Dean's green gaze. He'd almost hoped that Crowley would be there, to put off their plans. "There's a guard for Crowley's tent. Do you want to distract him, or shall I?"

 

Dean smirked at him, little crinkles forming by his eyes that Castiel found endearing. "I don't trust your social skills, sorry Cas."

 

Castiel shrugged, nonchalant. Dean made for the tent but Castiel instinctively reached out and grabbed Dean's wrist. Dean looked down at his hand and another blush coloured him. "Please be careful." He was met with another smile as Dean walked up to the tent. Castiel watched carefully for the first few seconds. The guard's name was Kubrick, he had not had many interactions with him, but he seemed religious and quiet. Dean should be safe with him, Castiel thought as he moved forwards. He watched as Dean gesticulated with his hands and Kubrick's lips quirked with amusement. Holding his breath Castiel waited patiently for his opportunity. It came when Dean gestured to something on the ground a few paces away. Castiel rounded the corner of the tent and darted inside.

 

Castiel's wings trembled, feathers whispering against the chains as he walked inside. This place reeked of blood, not just his own, but others too. If he'd had full access to his powers he would have been able to perceive a lot more, he was grateful that he couldn't. Castiel made his way into the back of the tent, it was dark inside but his vision showed him enough to get by. Castiel touched the desk as he reached it. It was cool to touch. Castiel opened the desk's drawers and pulled out some slips of paper. He flicked through them quickly, eyes scanning the words. Most of it was useless, account statements, bills, fawning letters from mayors begging The Menagerie to pay them a visit. Castiel stopped and picked out a typed letter. At the top of the page was the HUNTER's sigil; two colts crossing over a pentagram.

 

_To Mr. Crowley_

_We are pleased to hear of the benefit the Winchester brothers have added to your organisation. I however am concerned about Dean Winchester. There was no indication of him showing any psychic tendencies like his brother. We advise caution._

_To our continued, mutually beneficial deal._

_R.T_

 

Castiel tucked the letter back into the drawer and closed it. The letter added to his suspicion, the word 'deal' seemed significant. Was Crowley more than just a demon, was he a cross roads demon? Castiel pushed himself away from the desk and examined the objects behind it.

 

There was a large silver safe with a combination dial. Castiel went to touch the safe but recoiled with a gasp as a red flame licked at his fingers. Castiel knelt down to get a closer look at the safe. Around the edges were scrawls of demonic magic and Enochian, Ancient spells. Some of them were only fuzzy concepts to him, so diminished by time. Castiel's brow furrowed. Humans had access to some of these spells and sigils but these went beyond that...as an angelic charm maker, he himself would have difficulty designing something so well protected.

 

There was a symbol at the top of the safe door. Castiel stared at it as he tried to read it. It was a spell that much was clear and a protective one. Only the person who owned the safe could open it and as such that person's name was etched into the metal. It was another demonic sigil that spelt out the name Crowley. Human names could not be written in true demonic script.

 

There was a sound at the front of the tent. "Ah, Crowley!" Castiel heard Dean announce with a false joviality. There was a muffled voice and then the whisper of cloth as the tent's entrance was parted. Castiel ducked low, his head was filled with white noise as panic seized him. There was only one way out and that was where Crowley was. Castiel uttered a curse in Enochian and spotted in the corner of his eye a silver letter opener on Crowley's desk. Castiel shuffled forwards and snatched it off the desk and held it close to his chest. His heart pounded as he heard footsteps approaching, muffled by the carpets. He went rigid and held his breath as a shadow crawled over him.

 

"Crowley!" Dean's voice again. The shadow turned away and Castiel seized his chance. He held the blade tight and moved to the wall of the tent, he ripped a gouge in it and tumbled out.

 

Castiel quickly strode away, tried to stop his wings from fidgeting. Once Crowley's tent was far enough behind him, he waited for Dean. If he needed to, he would swallow his fear and go back.

 

After a moment Dean appeared and headed towards him and even from the distance between them Castiel could see that Dean was grinning. Castiel strode up to him not caring to hide his anger. Dean hesitated and his smile slipped off his face. Castiel didn’t pause, didn’t think as he punched Dean, square in the jaw. He felt Dean’s bone against his knuckles and the human staggered back a step and nursed his jaw. “What the hell Cas?”

 

Castiel wanted to arch his wings, spread them over Dean, wanted to punch him again but instead he settled for words. “I should be asking that Dean. Do you really think Crowley is that stupid? He’ll suspect you’re up to something. You’ve exposed yourself. You should have walked away and let him find me. I would have handled it.” Dean had no reason to be at Crowley’s tent and Crowley wasn’t stupid.

 

That said Castiel turned on his heel and stalked away. It was a bitter joy that bled into him when he did not hear Dean following. Castiel kept walking, walking until he reached the end of The Menagerie’s perimeter. He stood on the edge of a lookout point, a lip of soil that hung suspended over a natural dam. Castiel lowered himself down and sat on the edge, legs dangling over the precipice. He stared out to the horizon. If his wings were not bound, he would have chased the line of the horizon.

 

It was only when the sky was burning with a sunset that he felt a human soul beginning to approach him, and from its bright splendor he knew who it was. Castiel pretended to not know of Dean’s approach as he stared out over the landscape. In the corner of his eye he could see Dean’s jeans. He heard Dean withdraw his breath in a hiss as he shifted to look over the edge. Instinctively, Castiel reached out for Dean and held onto his leg. “You would not survive the fall.” He stated coldly. Dean chuckled and gently brushed Castiel’s hand off him as he sat down next to Castiel and let his legs dangle over the edge. “Yeah but you’d catch me.”

 

Castiel finally turned to look at Dean. “Are you sure I would?”

Dean huffed and elbowed Castiel in the side as he swung his legs. “Yeah I’m like, 95% certain.”

 

Castiel’s eyes shied away from Dean, “I’m sorry for hitting you.”

 

Dean shrugged. “It was good to see you express yourself, even if it meant a little pain.” Dean ducked his head and tried to catch Castiel’s gaze but the angel looked away entirely as shame began to colour his cheeks. “I was worried about your safety.” Castiel explained hurriedly.

 

Dean reached out, put his thumb on Castiel’s stubble rough chin. Castiel let the human angle his face, forcing him to meet Dean’s stare. “Same here you stupid son of a bitch.” Castiel smiled at that, content to stare into Dean’s green eyes.

 

Dean leaned in closer, which made their thighs press against each other. Castiel didn’t let it just happen this time as he brought his lips against Dean’s, sensitive skin tingling with sensation. He felt Dean smile against him and his fingers fall from his chin and smooth over his neck so that his hand rested against the nape. Dean’s tongue licked over the seam of his lips and Castiel parted his lips. Dean’s hand on him tugged him closer and Castiel reached up in response, fingers curling in the soft cotton of his shirt. Where the first kiss had been chaste and impulsive, this one soon changed to a demanding, bruising one.

 

Their teeth clicked together as the kiss deepened, Castiel moaned and Dean growled as his fingers tightened on Castiel’s neck. They fought for dominance over the kiss and Castiel felt himself giving in, the armour of ice that he had fortified himself in was melting away under Dean’s heat. Castiel was greedy though, he chased and demanded more in the kiss as he angled his head and drove deeper. After a moment Dean drew away slightly and Castiel’s could feel his hot breath on his kiss-swollen lips.

 

Dean breathed out in a laugh and his forehead bumped lightly against Castiel’s own. They stared into each other’s eyes. “This is like a bad cheesy romance ain’t it?”

 

Castiel brought up a hand and placed it reverently on Dean’s cheek. “Is that a bad thing?”

 

Dean’s lips quirked into a smile. “Maybe. But only if anyone ever finds out how sappy I can be.”

 

Castiel rubbed his thumb along the dusting of Dean’s freckles. “So this is real? I can have this?” Castiel’s thigh twitched when Dean squeezed it tightly and he said one word in reproach. “Cas.”

 

The angel got the message and he let his hand slip from Dean’s cheek to his leg and they both turned to face the view. The sky was gold and violet.

 

They didn’t say a word, just kept a hand on the other long after the sun had sunk below the horizon.


	7. Two More Sinners

Dinner was a quiet affair. Sam and Dean sat on cushions around a low, Turkish table in Castiel’s tent who tended to his feathers as he rested in his nest. He only half listened as the brothers ran over their plans. After their moment at the lookout Dean had searched out Sam and had told him what they had discovered and now the once Hunters, were creating strategies to deal with the new intel.

 

Castiel breathed in the smell of their food, listened to the breeze gusting over his tent with contentment. He rubbed his lips together and smiled to himself afterwards. Now he could relate to all of those thousands of songs about love, all those stories and images of romantic affection. Angels weren’t supposed to have this but it had been decades since he had seen another of his kind. That time was long gone and Castiel wanted to chase this new part of his existence. Discovering what the quivers of his heart and the rush of blood meant and reveling in those sensations. He looked up from his dark feathers and straight into Dean’s gaze. The human was watching him as Sam was scribbling away on a piece of paper.

 

Dean winked at him, eyes bright with joy and there was a smudge of tomato sauce at the side of his lips. Castiel pointed to the side of his own lip with a hint of laughter. Dean reached up and wiped it off with his thumb, which he then sucked clean.

 

Sam glanced up from his paper and poked Dean in the ribs with his pen and Castiel heard an irritated growl of ‘pay attention’. Dean flushed and turned back to their papers and managed to resist looking up for a while afterwards.

 

Castiel closed his eyes and drifted in the space between sleep and wakefulness. He did not know how long it was until he heard the rustle of the paper being folded up and quiet voices. Castiel opened an eye, Sam was gone but Dean was still where he was the folded paper in his hand.

 

“Have you decided on a plan?” Castiel asked, as he closed his eyes again. He heard Dean jump, knee knocking the bottom of the table. “I thought you were asleep.”

 

Castiel hummed nonchalantly. “I don’t need much sleep…the plan?”

There was a heavy sigh from Dean. “Not sure about the whole plan yet but the first stage we’ll carry out tomorrow.”

 

Castiel felt Dean’s gaze on him and he couldn’t help but look the human in the eye. “What?”

 

“How did you get captured anyway? I’d have thought you would have been able to gank any of these dicks, even if Crowley is a demon.”

 

Castiel looked away. “I let my guard down. I had saved a young family, the Novaks, from demons back in the 60’s. Unfortunately, I did not save Jimmy, Amelia’s husband.” Castiel paused and from the corner of his eye he saw Dean lean forward eagerly.

 

Castiel shook his head and continued. “Obviously both Amelia and her daughter Claire knew I was an angel but they were grateful that I had saved them. So they did not report me to HUNTER. Instead, I hid for a time in their home and reemerged one day as Amelia’s new husband, to allow myself more freedom.”

 

Dean raised an eyebrow, lips parting slightly with a click. “Did you seal the deal?”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “It was a fake marriage Dean. We slept in separate beds and I took on the guise of Emmanuel and worked in the local parish. But Amelia aged, Claire grew up and I didn’t change.” Castiel clutched at the blankets, pulling out a loose thread. “I stayed too long in one place. Before I always drifted, never made roots, I think is the expression. That’s what led them to me.”

 

_Castiel was in the garden, with his back against the tree and his legs stretched out in front of him. Before him were beds of flowers, all immaculately tended for. Amelia was at work, Claire was at school. Castiel sighed and sat down, put his back to the tree in the garden. He wished he could stretch his wings, soar in the sky. They ached to be released, it had been weeks since he had let them show._

_Castiel closed his eyes and listened to the shifting and ever present transformations of the world. He heard a shoot of new grass break through the soil, a dandelion loose its spores in the wind. Still, despite some of the limits living with the Novak’s had, it was peaceful and easy._

_Then he heard footsteps approaching him._

_Opening his eyes, he expected to see Claire back from school but was instead faced with a man he had never seen before. There was a silver blade in his hand and Castiel stiffened against the tree. He knew it at a glance, it was a simple blade from one of the lower classes of angel, but more than enough to kill him. The man pointed the sharp tip towards his throat as he stepped forward. Before he got too close Castiel got to his feet and released his wings with an audible rip._

_He arched the great pinions of his wings and they threw dark shadows onto the man. The man’s eyes flashed with fear. There was a gunshot and a hot, intense pain that ripped through Castiel’s wing. His mind went blank with the agony and he dropped to one knee as he tried to breathe. He looked to his wounded wing, which was limp on the ground. Blue sparks sputtered from the gory hole._

_Castiel’s eyes widened. Someone had shot him with a piece of an angel blade? Castiel tried to see the shooter but the man was in shadows and he stepped back further into them to hide._

_The man with the blade stepped forward and Castiel raised his arm to block the downwards strike. The blade sliced his flesh with a hiss as his Grace burned, but it deflected the attack. Castiel raised his injured wing, was pulling together the pieces of his Grace when another shot, this one into his abdomen had him fall into unconsciousness._

_Castiel knew it had been a long time since he was asleep. Castiel tried to sit up but couldn’t. Blearily, he looked down at himself, saw chains engraved with Enochian and demonic spells wrapped around his body. Harsh lights shone down on him, like an operating room he saw in a movie once._

_A face hovered over him but the lights were too bright, he couldn’t make out the man’s face._

_“Welcome to The Menagerie Castiel, I’m going to bind you to this place, to me now…you may call me Crowley.”_

Castiel licked his lips and looked to Dean when he finished speaking. Dean seemed shocked, lips parted slightly.

 

“What?” Castiel asked, mild irritation colouring the word. Dean shook his head with disbelief. “You were still helping people, even when it was dangerous. You saved that family…I would have thought that angels, or any creature being hunted, would have stayed low.”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes slightly. “I stayed on Earth to help people. I did not choose to stay for selfish reasons. It is only when I was captured that I stopped helping people.”

 

Dean walked over to him and sat down onto the pillows. He gave Castiel a long hard look. Castiel cocked his head to the side questioningly. Dean put a hand on his thigh and Castiel jumped at the sudden contact. Dean’s verdant eyes met his, “Well, you’re helping people again.”

 

Castiel nodded, put a hand over Dean’s. “And it feels….good.”

 

Dean smiled at him and made to get up. “Do you…do you have to go?” Castiel asked, cursing how his voice trembled with the question. He had a voice that could smash windows here he was, quiet and meek. But Dean seemed to have that effect on him.

 

Dean hesitated for a moment before he smirked. “Is this some kind of pick up line?”

Castiel growled and looked away but that only seemed to amuse Dean who laughed and relaxed back into the cushions. “Okay, why not.” Castiel didn’t turn around to face Dean, just curled down onto his cushions to sleep. He heard Dean do the same with a contented sigh.

 

+++

 

That night Castiel couldn’t sleep. He had his fingers over his mouth, eyes squeezed tight. He could feel the heat of Dean’s body against his back, hear the little intakes of his breath. He wanted to hear more, experience more with Dean. The kiss kept replaying itself over and over again in his mind, the sensations that came with it made his toes curl.

 

That sound must have woken Dean up as he heard him turn over. Castiel rolled onto his side and met Dean’s gaze in the darkness.

Dean smirked at him, playful and fond. Castiel felt his warm hand ghosting over the side of his hip. Castiel tentatively moved closer. “Are you cold?” He asked Dean, but the man shook his head and his eyes darted to the layers of blankets covering him. “No I’m good.”

 

But Dean kept the hand on his hip and Castiel moved in closer. Castiel could only stare, body growing warmer and warmer. Dean leaned into to him, kissed him open mouthed. It was a slow tender kiss that had the angel arching up into the man, pressing his groin against Dean’s. Dean gasped and rolled his hips hard against Castiel’s. Castiel watched, enraptured as Dean pulled back licked his plush lips, leaving a wet sheen on them. The angel couldn’t resist licking them and then gently nibbling Dean’s lower lip. That made the man groan and Castiel jerked when he felt Dean’s hand on his trousers, against his hardening cock.

 

“This okay Cas?” Dean asked, pupils blown with desire. Castiel could only nod and he breathed a sigh of relief as Dean undid the zipper. Dean watched his face carefully as his hands moved under the covers, undoing Castiel’s belt before pulling his trousers down just above his knees. Next Castiel felt Dean’s calloused fingers playing with the waistband of his underpants and soon they were down with his trousers. Castiel’s breath came quicker, his cock jerking with anticipation. “Dean?”

 

Dean kissed him gently on the cheek. “You’re okay.”

Castiel nodded and bit down on his lip as he felt Dean lower his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the head of his cock. Castiel squeezed his eyes closed, hips jerking forward of their own accord. With his eyes closed, the sounds of Dean’s breath and every little touch on his body seemed all the more intense.

 

Dean’s palm slid to the underside of his cock, slowly stroking along the engorged vein on the underside. Castiel’s breath hitched in his throat, his brow furrowed as pleasure ricocheted down his spine. He panted out a breath and swore in Enochian.

 

Dean’s hand began to build up speed. Castiel gasped as he felt Dean’s fingers coaxing precome from the slit of his cock, using it to slick the way. Dean’s hand was warm and tight and Castiel felt the invisible strings holding him back severe as he fucked up into Dean’s hand. Dean kept the pace of his hand and underneath his own breaths and mewls and the jackhammer of his heart, Castiel heard Dean urge him, “Look at me Cas.”

 

Castiel’s eyes fluttered open. Dean’s face was flushed and close to his, flash of white teeth as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. The motions got stronger and faster ‘til Castiel couldn’t hold back, white spots danced in his vision as he came – hips jerking and cock twitching as pleasure overwhelmed him.

 

Dean gently stroked him through it as though he wanted to wring every last drop of pleasure and come out of the angel. Then Dean raised his hand and licked his fingers clean and Castiel could only watch and groan at the erotic display. Dean hummed as he sucked his thumb into his mouth. It was the single most tantalizing and dirty thing Castiel had ever seen and it made his spent cock twitch with interest. “Tastes like Heaven.” Dean murmured with a smirk.

 

Normally, Castiel would roll his eyes at something so absurd but he merely smiled and shook his head slightly. The post orgasmic haze had him feeling lethargic and tired. But he remembered that in human coupling it was usually polite to give the other person pleasure too. With a hard swallow Castiel reached down, fingers scratching lightly over denim to feel Dean’s hardness.

 

Dean hissed in a breath between his clenched teeth but he gently pressed a hand over Castiel’s under the blankets. “It’s okay, you don’t have to.”

 

Castiel’s brow corrugated and he harshly tugged down Dean’s fly. “I want to.” Dean smiled at that and he spread his legs under the sheets to give the angel more room to work. “God I’m more than happy to, but I just thought…”

 

Castiel huffed out a laugh, “That angels were virginal and didn’t want to do this sort of thing?” Dean nodded meekly, gaze darting away. Castiel smirked, “Although I have never done this, many of my brothers and sisters were quite…prolific. Gabriel and Balthazar in particular come to mind. So I may not be as innocent as you believe me to be.”

 

Dean tugged down his trousers. “Show me then.”

 

Castiel felt a blush colouring his cheeks but he set his jaw, determined to be good for Dean. Castiel’s hand shifted under the blankets, long fingers finding the warm skin of Dean’s inner thigh. The Hunter sighed and let his head loll back against the cushions but kept an eye on Castiel as his hand moved slowly upwards.

 

When he touched Dean’s cock the man shuddered under him. Castiel watched as Dean’s face went slack, lips parting as his fingers slowly quested along the length of Dean’s erection. Gaining confidence Castiel wrapped his fingers around Dean’s cock like he did to him and fell into a tightly gripped rhythm, using his thumb on the upstroke to smear precome. Dean’s hips pushed insistently against his hand and Castiel chuckled, felt alive as he saw Dean begin to come undone. The man stared at him; gaze hooded as Castiel leaned down and peppered kisses on his throat as he stroked his cock.

 

Once Castiel got a taste of Dean’s sweat he chased it, lapping at his neck, kissing the tendons there that strained as Dean arched his back with pleasure. Castiel nibbled along the shell of his ear and swept his palm over the slick head of Dean’s cock.

 

“C-Cas!” Dean burst out, voice mingled with the shock of coming so soon and the pleasure that zinged through his nerves. Castiel drew his hand away, wiped Dean’s come carelessly on his cushions. Castiel dropped down onto his nest of pillows and Dean stared up at the ceiling as he caught his breath. “That was…a pretty fucking good hand job.”

 

Castiel looked away for a moment but that only had the effect of making Dean laugh softly. “Knew you had a kinky side.” Dean murmured as his eyes fluttered closed, voice trailing off into sleep. Castiel snuggled closer, wished he could cocoon them with his wings. He settled for wrapping his arms around Dean and kissing his temple before joining the Hunter in slumber.

 

+++

 

What Castiel woke up to was something he didn’t think he would ever tire of. His face was so close to Dean’s that he could count his freckles and could see the thick lashes that framed his eyes. He couldn’t help but reach out and lightly run his thumb over the human’s cheekbone. There was a faint pleased little purr from his Grace as he did so, as it knew that he was touching something righteous. But there was something even more satisfying and it was the skip of his heart as he felt a swell of affection for the human.

 

The brush of his finger seemed to rouse Dean and he snuggled his face into a blue pillow which was embroidered with silver stars. Dean mumbled and eventually opened his bright green eyes. “Mornin’” He slurred as he blinked away sleep and gently kissed Castiel’s cheek.

 

The angel hummed low in his throat, pleased with the little kiss. “Good morning.” But the planning from last night, the rekindled desire to leave the Menagerie had Castiel speaking despite himself. “So what’s the plan?” He asked, as Dean sat up in bed, stretching his arms over his head. Castiel cursed himself inwardly as Dean took the warmth with him, letting in the cooler air. Although air temperature did not effect him like it did humans the heat that Dean let off was…delicious.

 

“Well,” Dean began, “We need tools, weapons. So Sam and I are going to scrounge around, lift a few things from people.”

 

Castiel stiffened, feathers fluffing up with concern. “You’re going to steal?”

Dean quirked an eyebrow. “We ain’t going to steal anything too valuable. Just a few rosaries, any Christian mumbo jumbo to help us take down that smug fuck.”

 

Castiel huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as Dean planted a kiss against the frown lines on his forehead before crawling out of bed. “I don’t like stealing.”

Dean laughed loudly. “I’m not asking you to. Sam and I are pretty good at it, They won’t even know it’s gone. Plus, these people are assholes for coming here.”

 

Perhaps Castiel was biased but he couldn’t argue with that logic. “It is for a good cause.” Castiel supplied quietly as he unfolded his arms and reached over for his shoes. Dean rolled his eyes at him but he smiled as he shrugged on his jacket and began to tie up his boots. “You know any religious people who work here?”

 

Castiel paused, “There’s Kubrick, he is very devout. I would imagine he might keep a rosary, perhaps even a bottle of holy water in his tent.”

 

Dean clicked his fingers, “Then that’s where we’ll go. Know what his tent looks like?”

 

Castiel nodded and got to his feet before leaving the tent with Dean on his heels. The morning was cloudy and gray, a day that made Castiel’s feathers feel dry and lifeless. Dean obviously felt the same way, as he leaned in close to Castiel to whisper. “I’d much rather be spending the day in bed with you.”

 

Castiel smiled and looked at Dean from the corner of his eye. “I completely agree.” Even though sex was still new, it had felt wonderful. Castiel could now understand why humans seemed so obsessed by it and he too wanted to try new things already.

 

They strode through the labyrinth of tents. There were many new creatures and monsters being wheeled in as well as a few displays. There was a glass cabinet that caught Dean’s eye and he wandered away from Castiel to look at it. Inside was a long dried vine and on the shelf above it was a pair of old glasses. Dean leaned down to read the writing. The glasses were said to be able to ‘peer through the veil’ and the vine was used to ‘trip demons’.

 

Castiel looked over his shoulder. “The vine is known as Devil’s Shoestring and those glasses…” Castiel frowned, “They are intriguing.”

 

“Intriguing?”

 

Castiel hummed. “These seem special. They have an aura about them.” Before Dean could ask any more questions Castiel pressed his hand against the cool glass. He closed his eyes and stretched out his awareness, using his Grace to gently probe the glasses. He withdrew his hand with a hiss, wincing as he clutched it to his breast. Dean’s eyes widened and he reached out for Castiel’s hand and made the angel show him his palm. There were angry red scorch marks that puckered his skin. Dean gently held Castiel’s hand, “You okay?”

 

Castiel nodded, “Those glasses have been passed through holy fire.”

 

Dean glanced over at the cabinet. “So are they cursed?”

 

Castiel shook his head. “They will not harm me if I’m careful and won’t hurt humans at all. They allow the wearer to see ghosts, hellhounds, a demon’s true face.”

 

Dean froze, “It lets you see demons?”

 

Castiel looked back to the item. “Yes and the Devil’s Shoestring plant will also be useful…” Castiel added mischievously, they could use both objects against Crowley.  But Dean as distracted as he traced his thumb over the burns on Castiel’s palm, and where he touched the skin was healed.

 

“Dean,” Castiel said with a reprimanding tone. “You should not waste your energy.” At that Dean shrugged and began to walk around the glass display case, looking for ways to get into it. “It’s my energy, I can use it however I want.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes, an action that Dean caught that made him frown before laughing softly. Castiel still didn’t understand how humans could change and jump between emotions so quickly.  Then Dean stilled, wiped the smile from his face. From behind Castiel, Gordon appeared. Gordon’s gaze went between the two of them, like he had done only a few days before. There was something knowing in his eyes, something that was dangerous and made Castiel’s feathers stand on end.

 

“You two spend an awful lot of time together,” Gordon drawled as he stepped up to the cabinet. It was on wheels and he began to push it along, towards the open mouth of a tent. Dean stepped in for Castiel, “What? You missin’ me Gordon?”

 

The other man scowled and soon disappeared into the tent. Without waiting another moment Castiel began to walk away. Dean didn’t take Gordon seriously enough, that man was close to Crowley. He was the demon’s extra set of eyes and ears. It was still strange to think of Crowley as a demon, but it did make sense. Dean caught up with him, lightly patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re being careful.”

 

Castiel huffed, “Are we? We are spending increasing amounts of time together, I’m sure I smile more around you-“

 

“You do.” Dean cut in to confirm it but Castiel continued speaking regardless, “And we are wandering around The Menagerie a lot and got into trouble with that old man in the wheelchair.” Dean shrugged, easy and casual. “Yeah well, that’s another reason for moving along with this plan to leave. We don’t have it all figured out but none of us can stay here much longer.”

 

Castiel had to agree with that. He slowed his pace as he began to relax and he snuck a glance at Dean. The human walked close to him, as if he naturally gravitated towards him. “Do I really smile more?” Dean bit his lip to stop from smiling himself. “Yeah you do. You’ve changed since I got here. You aren’t so uptight and…sad. You seem happier.”

 

Castiel felt his wings shiver in their chains with pleasure. “I guess meeting you hasn’t all been trouble and pain then.”

 

Dean was about to argue when Castiel stopped, expression serious again as he nodded towards a white tent with a red cross emblazoned on the front. “That’s Kubrick’s tent.”

 

Dean went up to the tent and parted the flap of the entrance, he signaled that it was all clear and then disappeared inside. With a sigh Castiel followed. He had never been in Kubrick’s tent before and did not know what to expect. But what did meet his eyes was completely unanticipated.  

 

Every space was taken up by Christian iconography. There were tables littered with Bibles open to scripture, crucifixes and crosses. Above the bed dangled thousands of rosaries so that they formed a cloud of beads to watch over Kubrick’s sleep. In the corner of the room was a large crucifix where the blood and details of Jesus’ face were painstakingly done.

 

Dean let out an impressed whisper and then shook his head. “Did you know he was this fana-“ Dean cut himself off, eyes going to Castiel’s wings. The angel finished his sentence for him. “Fanatical?”

 

Dean meekly nodded and rubbed the back of his neck.  
But Castiel just shrugged, “No I did not.” He stepped towards a small table that had hundreds of bottles, all in different shapes and sizes. He picked up a fat round bottle and uncorked it. He then lifted it to his nose and breathed in its scent.

 

“Why are you smelling the water?” Dean asked hesitantly as he too plucked a tall slender bottle off the table. Castiel put the cork back in its place. “Checking if it’s holy. It is, so I would assume the rest are too.”

 

Dean smiled brightly, “Great.” With that, he began to line his pockets with the bottles and soon every miniscule movement Dean made had the bottles clinking in his pocket.

 

“Should you take so many?” Castiel asked. Dean let out a sound of derision. “They’ll be handy. I know you can probably bless water but that will take time and a whole lot of bottles – and I don’t know where we’d get so many.” Dean zipped up his pockets, having taken well over a dozen bottles. He reached out for Castiel’s hand and lightly kissed it.

 

Castiel held on tight to Dean’s hand and felt himself relax. He had no idea that a little kiss could calm him so effectively. “We’ll just hide these and be careful. No one will know it was us.” Dean continued with a murmur as he kissed along Castiel’s knuckle. The angel hummed with contentment and had to swallow a sigh when Dean released his hand. He watched as Dean wandered about the room, reaching above the bed to snag a few rosaries and choosing a few old metal crosses from a table.

 

Castiel observed but then pointed to a small silver cross, almost lost amongst the forest of objects. “Take that one. It has a certain holiness.”

 

Dean tiled his head as he stared down at it. It had a ruby in the centre and a gold star that flared out from under it. He threw it to Castiel who caught it easily with one hand. Castiel pocketed the cross but kept his fingers against it as though it were a comforting balm. “We should leave now.”

 

“Yeah, let’s mosey.” Dean quipped back, he grasped Castiel’s wrist and tugged him out of the tent. Dean quickly let go and walked through the tents, heading towards the tent Dean shared with Sam. When Dean got inside he breathed a sigh of relief to have made it there safely. Sam looked up from where he was working. Castiel’s frowned. “What are you doing Sam?”

 

Sam had a knife in his hand and he had been cutting a hole into the thin mattress he slept on. “I’ve been making places to stash anything we’ve gotta hide.” Dean grinned and pulled out a large bottle of holy water and dangled it in front of Sam’s nose. “Got a lot of stuff for you to hide Sammy.” Sam took the bottle from Dean and put it on the floor and Dean went down on one knee and began to empty his pockets. Sam gaped at the loot, “Where the hell did you get all this stuff?”

 

Dean laughed, “That Kubrick guy could be featured on an episode of Hoarders.”

 

Sam shook his head and began to pack in the holes of the mattress. “This is going to be so uncomfortable to sleep on.” Sam mumbled out with a frown and the only sympathy he got from his brother was a chuckle and a pat on the back. “Hopefully it won’t be for too long.”

 

Castiel sat down on Dean’s bed and the Hunter soon joined him. Castiel felt Dean’s fingers sliding under his shirt to gently stroke circles on the small of his back. Castiel felt heat rise up in him but he didn’t dissuade Dean. Instead he decided to distract himself. “So now will you tell me what the plan is?”

 

Dean sighed and took his hand away, Sam caught the motion and the corners of his lips turned down with a small frown. “Well,” Sam began as he continued to stuff the mattress. “Then, Dean and I were thinking that I wouldn’t attend the show; just you and Dean would perform in the Big Top. That way I can sneak into Crowley’s tent, armed, and get him to talk.”

 

Castiel went still, tongue as dry as sandpaper. “Alone?”

 

“Yeah I ain’t happy about it. But Sam’s a good Hunter, I trust him. Plus, we’ll trap the place first.” Dean growled out, uneasy with the arrangement.

 

“That’s not our biggest problem. Crowley always watches the show in the Big Top.” Castiel added coolly.

 

“Shit,” Dean swore and Sam went pale, hands stilling. Castiel bit his lower lip. “But if there was a distraction of some sort, something that would draw him out of the Big Top and back to his tent…” Castiel’s voice trailed off as he spoke. Sam and Dean waited for him, staring. All of a sudden Castiel stood. “I have an idea.”

 

He walked away fast enough that the edges of his trench coat lifted, he didn’t wait for Dean. He heard Dean following him, boots sloshing in the mud and puddles. “Hey, wait up big bird.”

 

Castiel paused ‘til he saw Dean flushed and slightly out of breath at his side. “Damn you move fast.”

 

“I’m not a bird.” Castiel deadpaned. Dean shook his head with a smile, “Never mind, show me this idea of yours.”

 

With a nod Castiel began to walk again. He headed to an unusual tent, one that Dean had noticed but never approached. It was an olive green with a motif of silver scales running over it and the entrance was shaped to appear like a horses head.

 

Castiel disappeared inside and Dean followed. It was dark and Castiel created a light. It was a small blue ball, soft and warm and he passed it to Dean to hold. Dean took it with wonder clear on his face; it hovered above the skin of his palms and radiated light in soft ebbs and flows.

 

Castiel nodded, weirdly smitten with how Dean held his created light as he led him deeper inside. Here it was colder and Dean brought the light closer to his chest, clearly grateful for its warmth. There was a subtle hum and the slosh of water.

 

“Holy hell.” Dean whispered, “This is the Kelpie Sammy told me about.”

 

The creature stared down at him from where it floated in its enormous tank. It bared its piranha like teeth at him before it turned its white eyes to the angel. When he saw Castiel its lips smoothed over its teeth, hiding them. It seemed to relax and a small purr began to make the water around it tremble. Dean folded his arms over his chest, glaring at the beast. “I’m insulted. What’s so great about him?” Dean asked with mock annoyance.

 

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean before laying his palm against the glass, fingers splayed in the veneer of condensation. “Angels and Kelpie have often gotten along. Their taste for human flesh is a rather new development, lack of prey and an abundance of humans are at fault.”

 

“You saying deforestation has made these guys into man killers?”

 

The Kelpie put its nose to the glass and its eyes closed, the fans that rippled on its back were folded flat and tight against his spine in a comforting gesture. “That’s correct,” Castiel murmured as he too closed his eyes and compressed his wings as much as he could. Dean was about to ask another question when he felt a strange static in the air and the hairs on his arms stood up.

 

Castiel laid his forehead against the glass. He sent the Kelpie images and words, tried to convince it to help them. Minutes passed as the Kelpie sent him back simple emotions and thoughts. Soon, a bargain was reached.

 

Castiel pulled away from the glass and the Kelpie opened its eyes again. Its fans fluttered open and it whinnied in the water, a strange metallic sound like a sheet of metal being smacked.

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt the beginnings of a headache mounting behind his eyes. “I was talking with it, as much as I could anyway.”

 

“And?” Dean queried with raised eyebrows.

 

“She has promised to help us. I told him that we would free her and the Wendigo. She will create the distraction we need and also provide the means for escape.”

 

Castiel let that information soak in, Dean’s face had gone from intrigued to unfiltered shock and horror. “You can’t let two monsters out when there are civilians around! You’ll get people killed!”

 

Castiel chuckled at that, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t you trust me?”

 

Dean’s face went slack and he closed his mouth, a moment passed before he nodded. Castiel felt a thrill of pride and joy. “Good.” That was an understatement he thought, as he resisted smiling. “There is nothing a Kelpie enjoys eating more than a Wendigo. Apparently they have particularly tasty livers. So the Kelpie will kill and eat the Wendigo, leaving every human at The Menagerie safe from both creatures. Once it has consumed the Wendigo and we are all free, she shall take us from this place.”

 

Dean smirked, “There’s some poetic justice to a Wendigo being eaten alive.” Castiel watched carefully as Dean approached the tank, he gave the Kelpie a thumbs up who blinked vacantly at the gesture. “I like her.” Castiel wound an arm around Dean’s chest as he stepped behind him, “You’re making me jealous.”

 

Dean hummed and leaned his head back, teeth nibbling along the shell of Castiel’s ear. “What are you going to do about it?”  Castiel looked to the light in Dean’s hand and with a blink of his eyes he made it disappear into fragments that dissolved into the air. Dean gasped as he was plunged into darkness and Castiel took that as his opportunity to spin Dean around and kiss him in the dark. It was another hard, claiming kiss. He tried to dominate this one but Dean pressed back harder, tongue twisting around his. Soon, Castiel felt himself relenting, shivering as Dean’s hands smoothed themselves across his back.

 

Dean broke away from the kiss as a rumble of laughter escaped him. “Yeah you angels really are kinky son of a bitches.”

 

Castiel huffed, “We learnt from the kinkiest species.”

 

There was quiet for a moment and then Dean spoke, “Are we crazy for doing this? Ever since kissing you, all I can think about is you. Touching you, being with you…Fuck, I hate being this sappy.”

 

Castiel rested his hand against Dean’s cheek and he felt the human startle in the dark. “I wondered that myself, but this feels too good to give up.”

 

He saw the hint of Dean’s smile in the gloom. “What happened to my mom, what humans have done to you…that’s got nothing to do with us, what we have.”

 

Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean’s. He was still scared of the intense feelings he had for Dean, the desire to never let this human go and do anything for him. He could forgive humanity for the things they had done against him and his brethren, for Dean proved that they weren’t all the same. He knew that Dean thought similarly about angels.

 

Dean pulled away from him, blinking as his eyes adjusted. “Come on,” He murmured softly as he grasped Castiel’s wrist, waiting for the angel to lead him out of the darkness. The angel hummed his agreement and gently tugged Dean along but Dean didn’t let go of him even when the light from outside cut a ray of light into the tent.

 

Castiel parted the flaps and stepped outside with Dean. Dean put his hand on the back of his neck and dragged him down for another kiss, this time slower and more languid; as though they had all the time in the world. It was unwise to kiss out in the open but Castiel let himself be kissed despite that.

 

There was movement in the corner of his eye, someone was watching them. Castiel pushed Dean away with a hand against his chest. He twisted, saw the witness and strode over to him by the cluster of trees. Anxiety rose hot and sticky to the back of Castiel’s throat but he hid it with rage as he grabbed the man by the shoulders and thrust him hard against a tree.

 

Gordon smiled at him, cocky at first until he registered the anger on Castiel’s face. The man’s eyes widened, knees giving slightly. Castiel heard Dean walk up to him and a lowly muttered curse left him.

 

Castiel stared down into Gordon’s eyes, used his superior height to his advantage. He instinctively tried to flare his wings, links of the chain straining. “If you tell anyone about what you just saw, I will burn you from the inside, so that your organs will leak like hot glue from every orifice.” Castiel could feel his Grace shining in his eyes as his heart beat faster and faster in his chest. If this intimidation didn’t work, it would spell disaster for him and more importantly for Dean.

 

Gordon licked his lips and nodded mutely. Castiel tightened his grip on Gordon’s shoulders and Castiel was certain it would leave the impression of his hands. “If you think humanity is creative with pain and torture, you know nothing of Heaven.” With that final threat hanging like a guillotine over Gordon’s the man whimpered. Castiel let him go and Gordon slipped free, stumbling, as he ran back into the safety of The Menagerie.

 

“Is it wrong if I found that kind of hot?”

 

Castiel sighed and sent Dean a half-hearted glare. “Yes.” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, that headache he had felt coming on was beginning to pound without mercy in his skull. “If Gordon tells Crowley…”

 

Dean heaved out a sigh. “What kind of consequences are we talking about here if he talks?”

 

Castiel lowered his hand and shrugged, something he never used to do – a habit he had picked up off humans. “I have no idea. Torture, less freedoms…I doubt he will kill either of us. We are far too valuable to his income.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, “Good to know there is a bright side. Just torture, no death.” Castiel’s mind went back to the recent torture he had suffered under Crowley’s hands. His heart stuttered at the thought of Dean being subject to Crowley’s expert knife strokes.

 

The sun caught the pearlescent globe that hung from Dean’s neck. Castiel stepped in close to Dean and balanced the charm on the end of his fingertip. With relief he remembered that the charm would mean Dean would suffer no permanent or great injury. “Torture is probably out of the question for you.”

 

Dean carefully wrapped his fingers about Castiel’s wrist. “Would you worry about yourself for once?”

 

Castiel smiled, “It’s been a long time since I worried about anyone.”

 


	8. The Prelude

They had decided to part ways, Dean went to his tent and Castiel to his. Every second seemed to stretch on for an eternity as Castiel waited for the inevitable. He had no illusions, his threat might not have worked. It was getting dark and the next day was the Big Top performance, when the plan would have to work otherwise Sam, Dean and himself had no future.

 

With that bleak thought Castiel kept on waiting and it was almost a relief to see Andy at the entrance of his tent. Castiel sat up in his nest and watched the man. Andy wrung his hands in front of himself, the man had always feared him. Castiel took pity on him by speaking first. “Crowley wants to see me.”

 

Andy looked up, wide eyes darting to him. After a moment he nodded and then disappeared out of his tent and back into the night.

 

Castiel grit his jaw and stood up, he picked up his trench coat and shucked it on over his wings before walking out. It was a cool crisp night that stole his breath and burned at his lungs, but Castiel was grateful for it as it helped clear his head.

 

He walked on until the red and black tent appeared before him. Castiel strode in with no hesitation. It was dark inside, an unnatural darkness that Castiel’s eyes could not quite penetrate. It must have been a spell of some sort he concluded as he slowly moved forwards, ‘til he spotted Crowley’s desk and the faint outline of the man sitting behind it.

 

“Shall we get straight to the point darling?”

 

Castiel nodded, “Certainly.” He had to remain collected, any break in his façade would be disastrous. He pushed his newly discovered feelings to the side and withdrew the ancient ice warrior he had been, shrugging on that old armour.

 

“Gordon tells me you’ve been canoodling with Dean Winchester.” Crowley spat out, British accent thick and accusatory.

 

“Yes.” Castiel replied without qualm. “He has been trying to get me to side with him and his brother for some time.”

 

“Is that why you rescued him from that psycho in the wheelchair?”

 

Castiel paused for a moment to organize his thoughts. “I have been fooled by the Winchesters, Dean most of all. At first I thought they simply wanted to be companions with me but now I believe they want protection or power from me. Neither can I provide after he accosted me…as Gordon saw.”

 

There was silence from Crowley. Castiel could almost taste the demon thinking and churning over his words.

 

“Dean did not realise that angels require do not require love and lust only strikes a few of us.”

 

Crowley hummed seeming to accept this. “I want to believe you Cassie, I really do. But I’m not quite convinced.”

 

Castiel peered into the gloom but could only perceive Crowley’s fingers steepled under his chin and the glimmer of a ruby in his tiepin. “How about you prove yourself tomorrow. I was going to have Dean heal a few audience member’s cuts and bruises in the Big Top but I think it would be much more fun if you hurt him, quite a bit mind you and have the audience see Dean being healed.”

 

Crowley let those words hang in the air before he purred out; “What do you think?”

 

Castiel kept his expression neutral, his voice level. “I have no affection for him, so I have no issue with your plan.”

 

Crowley slipped his fingers out from under his chin and clapped once, “Excellent.” Castiel heard the clink of glass meeting and then the trickle of liquid being poured. He lightly sniffed the air, smelt oaky whiskey on the air.

 

“You may leave now. Don’t disappoint me tomorrow.”

 

Castiel turned on his heel and left the tent, he dared not think about what he had agreed to but simply walked back to his tent. But once he was back into his sanctuary, he sat down on an ottoman and held his head in his hands. He felt sick to his stomach and he began to sweat. He would have to hurt Dean, undo all the good he had done of changing the hunter’s perception of angels.

 

Perhaps Dean would understand? Endure the pain for the greater good. Castiel’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling at the dark strands. Castiel had never had to hurt someone he cared for before. He lifted his head out of his hands. The sooner he told Dean, the better. There was no point hiding in his tent. Once more Castiel left his tent and found the Winchester’s tent. He stepped inside and it was warm and bright, there was a small brazier burning in the middle that Sam and Dean sat around.

 

But the heat only made Castiel sweat more and Dean must have seen something in his expression. “What is it Cas? Did Gordon…?”

 

Sam looked between them, eyebrows drawing together with confusion but he stayed silent.

 

“Gordon did tell Crowley. To prove that I have no true feelings for you tomorrow during the performance I must hurt you.” Castiel couldn’t bear to speak anymore. His mouth was dry as he carefully studied Dean’s face.

 

“Good. It’ll keep the suspicion off us for the next day; we can get all the prep done. I can deal with a bit of pain.”

 

Sam turned sharply to Dean. “No! God, Dean, there must be something else we can do. Maybe we can try to leave tonight.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Nah, the Kelpie will cause more of a distraction when there are more people here. The Big Top is our best chance.”

 

Castiel felt guilt swirling hot and ugly inside of him. “I’m sorry Dean…I couldn’t think of anything else to say.”

 

Dean stood up and gently rested his hand against Castiel’s neck. “I know.”

 

“What’s going on between you two?” Sam asked, though Castiel could hear in his voice that he already knew the answer. So Castiel shrugged his shoulders and then answered airily, “Your brother and I have started ‘seeing’ each other.” He replied with air quotations drawn into the air.

 

Dean slapped his hand over his forehead and let out a long groan and he didn’t dare look at his brother for more than a second due to the smug grin on his face.

 

“You’re a very sweet couple.” Sam added, to which Castiel nodded and smiled, basking for the moment in the lighter atmosphere. “Thank you Sam.”

 

“Don’t you two start ganging up on me,” Dean barked out with a glare. But the glare dissolved and he slung an arm around Castiel’s shoulder. “Them’s the breaks Sammy. Cas here wouldn’t leave me alone and in the bedroom he’s a real wild cat.”

 

Sam pulled a classic bitch face and turned away. “Oh God, Dean!”

 

Dean lightly squeezed Castiel against him and leaned in close. “Don’t worry about tomorrow night. Just go along with Crowley, I know you’ll pull your punches.” Castiel sighed, all of his nerves and anxiety leaving him at once. How could Dean so easily make him feel better? He was grateful Dean was there, solid and warm against him as he leant on him. “Thank you Dean.”

 

“Should I leave or…”

 

Dean winked at Sam, “I’m going to go over the plan for tomorrow with Cas. Intimately.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and seemed to gag a little.

 

“C’mon love bird.” Dean drawled out as he tugged Castiel out of the tent. Dean laughed as soon as he got out of the tent and his arm was still firmly around Castiel. Castiel doesn’t mind it one bit. “Are you sure you don’t want to be with Sam? Tomorrow might go badly…”

 

Dean puffed out his chest. “Nah, it’ll all work out. Besides, if it does go badly I ain’t letting you die a virgin.”

 

Castiel’s wings rattled his chains as they squirmed with the joy he wouldn’t let show on his face. But Dean seemed to get the message as his smile grew brighter and he began to pick up his pace.

 

As soon as they enter the safety of Castiel’s tent Dean is on him, hands clutching at the lapels of his trench coat and kissing him hard and possessively, saying everything he can’t put into words with actions. That he’s scared about tomorrow cos it might mean they’ll lose each other, that he wants Castiel with every fiber of his being and its scary but wonderful all at once.

 

Castiel reaches up, hand sliding over the thick cotton of Dean’s navy jacket to tangle his fingers in his short hair. He kisses Dean, tasting and exploring. Dean had to break away from the kiss first as he panted out a heavy breath.

 

“I’m still a virgin Dean.” Castiel deadpanned in a challenge. Dean’s eyes are more black than green but the colour that does remain is bright and feverish. He manhandled Castiel to the nest, and pushed him down onto the furs and pillows. Castiel looked up at Dean as he shrugged out of his jacket and then ripped off his black shirt over his head, revealing toned muscles and a sprinkling of freckles over his chest. Castiel licked his lips, captivated by the show that Dean is putting on for him.

 

Then there’s a clink of metal as Dean undoes his belt and then a harsh hiss as he undid the zipper. At that point Dean seemed to realise the effect he’s having on Castiel, who can barely breath and is string openly at him. So Dean takes his time with his jeans, sliding them slowly over the pronounced bones of his hips and pushing them down methodically over his underwear and the bulge of his hardening cock.

 

Castiel reached down to palm himself through his slacks but drew his hand away when Dean sent him a glare and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You’ve had centuries for that,” The man purred above him, “Let me take care of you tonight.”

 

Castiel whimpered as Dean’s pink tongue darted out to wet his lips as he stepped out of his jeans. Next, his fingers played at the elastic band of his underwear and then they’re sliding down too. Dean’s cock arches towards his belly it where the head of his cock is red and slick with precome.

 

Dean knelt down in front of Castiel, completely naked. “You’ve got far too much on.” Castiel couldn’t agree more and so his shaky fingers go to his trench coat which he sheds and then he’s struggling with the buttons of his shirt. Dean smiled and leaned forward to help, each button popped revealing more of his tanned flesh. It’s like Dean can’t help himself as he reached out and ran his hand over Castiel’s bared chest, fingertips playing with the peaked nipples. “Gorgeous,” Dean murmured and Castiel practically purrs with contentment at the praise. “You’re also quite handsome.” He adds lamely.

 

Dean laughed, fingers falling from his chest to unbuckle his belt. “You’re one smooth talker.” Castiel flushed at that but couldn’t bring himself to care about the hint of sarcasm as Dean finally slipped off his trousers, shoes and socks. All that he was left in were his own white briefs. Without any hesitation Dean leant down and mouthed at the shape of Castiel’s cock through the fabric. Castiel gasped, hands flying to the back of Dean’s neck. “Dean!”

 

The man only hummed, vibrations going to Castiel’s cock and licked at the wet spot that was beginning to form on the underwear. Dean lapped at it and then sucked at the head of Castiel’s cock. “Fuck you taste great. Better than other guys.” Dean licked a long wet stripe down Castiel’s cock and the angel had to bite his lip to stop the loud moan that was growing at the back of his throat. “Maybe it’s an angel thing,” Dean murmured as he raised his head. Castiel felt warm and tingly, cock tight with the need for release. Dean leaned over him, hands curled into fists on the pillows as he kissed him, teeth worrying Castiel’s bottom lip. As he kissed, Dean’s clever fingers made short work of his underwear, until Castiel could too let out a breath of relief as his cock was freed.

 

“I…I don’t have any lube on me.” Dean let out. Castiel shivered under Dean’s hungry gaze. “That’s okay…we’ll do something else.” Castiel whispered as he tentatively stroked his hand along Dean’s cock, making the Hunter mewl with ecstasy.

 

Dean crawled up over Castiel straddling him and then reached down to hold Castiel’s cock and his own. He slowly started to arch his hips, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of rubbing his cock against Castiel’s. Castiel puffed out a breath and hid his face in the crook of Dean’s neck.

 

Dean controlled the pace, the slip and slide of their cocks against each other a hot wet press. With every breath Castiel smelt Dean, his sweat, his cheap soap and the leather of his old jacket. “Please…Dean…I need.”

 

Dean stopped, let go of their cocks and Castiel couldn’t help the disappointed groan that left him. Dean lowered himself down, fingers circling the base of Castiel’s cock.

 

“What..?” Castiel asked, confused and dazed. Dean answered him by wrapping his lips around the head of his cock. “Ah!” Castiel bucked up into the tight press of Dean’s soft lips but the Hunter seemed to expect this as his other hand was pressed firmly against the sweaty dip of Castiel’s thigh. Dean swallowed down as far as he could, flat of his tongue running along the engorged vein on the underside of his cock. Castiel brought his hand up to his mouth and bit his knuckles.

 

Dean pulled up wetly, heat of his mouth leaving Castiel’s length to concentrate on the head. Then Dean sucked hard. Castiel squeezed his eyes closed, back lifting off his pillows as his wings tried to flare open at the sudden dizzying pleasure.

 

Dean hummed again, tongue dipping into the slit of his cock to taste the precome there. With his free hand Castiel held onto Dean’s hair, tried to gently push the human down, to swallow his cock again. “Please…” He begged again around his knuckles. Dean looked up at him as he sucked at his cock, mischievous glint in his gaze. Then he looked away, lips sliding down his cock again. He began to build up a rhythm. Slick sounds and the ragged intakes and exhales of Castiel’s breath filled the air. Dean was jacking himself off at the same time, a hard fast tempo of slapping skin as he sucked Castiel.

 

The knot in Castiel’s gut grew tighter, sweat rolled down his neck to collect in the dip of his throat. “Dean!” That was the only warning the angel could manage as he pushed up, cock twitching in the soft clench of Dean’s mouth as he came. He was left breathless and boneless.

 

Dean pulled off with an obscene pop and began to stroke himself over Castiel’s body. Then with a broken sob he came, a string of semen painting Castiel’s belly. Dean collapsed down next to Castiel as he tried to catch his breath. “I never knew your lips could do that…” Castiel whispered as he turned to look into Dean’s face.

 

Dean smirked. “My mouth is good for more than just cussing you know.”

 

Castiel hummed, and slung an arm over Dean’s sweaty hip. “Well now I know…I want to suck your cock next time.” Dean kissed his cheek. “That’d be nice.”

 

+++

 

Castiel woke up, far too warm but content all the same. Dean was lying next to him, still naked from the night before. Castiel turned over to look at the clock; he had never concerned himself with keeping time before living amongst humans. It was 1PM.

 

Castiel gently shook Dean awake. “Time to get up Dean.” Dean grumbled and hid his face in the cocoon of blankets. “No…” He muttered. Castiel sighed and threw the blankets off of Dean and made to stand up himself. He felt filthy, sweat and semen still on him but despite that he couldn’t help but feel happy. As he dragged the sheets away Dean tried to claw them back. “Come on Dean, get up. Today’s the day, the last day of being in The Menagerie if all goes well.”

 

Castiel felt himself grinning. He was so close to getting his freedom, his wings and his powers back, and he’d be able to share all of that with Dean. Dean blearily sat up wiping a hand over his eyes to dislodge the sleepy dust.

 

When he looked up at Castiel with the blankets in his hands but stark naked he smiled. “You’ve got some serious sex hair Cas.”

 

Castiel let go of the blankets to flatten his hair with a scowl. “It’s just bed hair.” Dean shrugged and stretched his arms over his head. “So what do you want to do? We could just stay in bed all day, make that bed hair into sex hair.”

 

“As much as I would love to do that, we have to make preparations. Find the Wendigo and figure out how to release it, hide the holy water close to Crowley’s tent and…”

 

Dean groaned and flopped dramatically back down onto the pillows. “Sam can do all of that. Probably already has, cos he’s my awesome little brother.”

 

“We should at least find out then and shower and get dressed.” Castiel replied with mock severity as he picked up Dean’s clothes and threw them at him. Dean would never admit to the undignified squeak he made.

 

Castiel put on his slacks and trench coat and picked up a towel. “I’m going for a shower.” He stated as he walked out of the tent.

 

“You’re walking around commando!” Dean shouted at him from within the tent. Castiel ignored what he supposed was a jibe and made his way to the showers. They were simple portable showers that Castiel tried not to use if he didn’t have to. At least the lack of warm water didn’t bother him. He heard Dean take the shower next to him, hearing the Hunter’s curses and indignant rants about how they should at least give them warm water.

 

Soon they were both dressed and heading towards Sam and Dean’s tent.

 

“This is probably a stupid question but are you going to miss this place?”

 

Castiel glanced at Dean from the corner of his eye, pace slowing. “My first instinct is to say that I won’t. But I have also learnt a lot about humanity and myself by being here…I also met you here, twice.” Castiel smiled fondly over at Dean. “The suffering I endured here was worth it to fall in love with you.”

 

Dean stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide. “What?” Dean whispered breathlessly.

 

“I love you Dean.” Castiel replied without qualm. It was a leap of faith he wasn’t afraid to take. Dean’s face went red and he continued walking, it was an awkward silence on the way to the tent.

 

Dean went inside and found Sam, immediately sitting by him and running over the plan. Castiel sat across from them, listening absentmindedly. He did not feel scorned or down hearted that Dean could not say the same words back to him, he was several millennia old, he could wait for Dean to tell him.

 

“See Cas, what did I tell you? Told ya Sammy would have taken care of it.”

 

Castiel jerked, “Sorry?”

 

A brief look of worry and guilt passed over Dean’s face. “Sam’s got a crowbar to open the Wendigo cage and has stashed the holy water in the bottom of a popcorn machine that’s near to Crowley’s tent.”

 

“Oh. Good.”

 

Dean smiled at him, bright and affectionate and it immediately put Castiel at ease. He knew Dean didn’t find voicing his emotions an easy thing.

 

“Well I was going to come and tell you both that I’d done all the work, but I was frightened to catch you two in the act.” Sam said with a grimace.

 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, puffing it out. “Yeah well I can’t keep Cas off me.”

 

Castiel snorted, “Your brother was fast asleep all of today. I had a hard time dragging him out of bed.” Dean dropped his arms, muttering something about an untrustworthy dick of an angel, but Sam only laughed, cheeks dimpled.

 

Castiel wished these easy moments could last forever.

 

 

+++

 

The rest of the day had disappeared, the hours like sand between their fingers as they ran through other possible plans, escape routes and worst case scenarios. But soon the sun was setting and The Menagerie was stirring to life.

 

Charlie appeared at the entrance of a tent, holding a bundle of clothes. “Here’s your outfits.” She stammered out as she hesitantly handed Castiel a bundle and then a bundle to both Winchesters. She played with a wayward strand of ginger hair and smiled meekly, “Good luck guys. Rock it.”

 

After that she disappeared, allowing the trio to look at their outfits and in each there was a note that detailed how the performance that night should run. Normally for a Big Top, there would have been practices leading up to the night but this was so quickly put upon them that there had been no time for that. It would have to be a lot improvising.

 

Castiel read his note, stomach dropping. Details of what Crowley wanted him to do Dean as well as some of his normal routine was detailed. Castiel’s gaze went to Sam and Dean, carefully watching the changes in their expression. Sam quickly discarded his paper; he wasn’t going to appear in the show after all.

 

Dean handed Castiel his instructions. Castiel read through them, they were simple enough. Healing and some sword play with Castiel, as though they were in a battle.

 

“You know how to use a sword?”

 

Dean shrugged as he began to go through his clothes. “Dad taught Sam and I to use a wide range of weapons, I might be a bit rusty but I can handle it.”

 

Castiel nodded and turned over the plate armour chest plate he had been given to wear. On its chest was an emblem of a snowflake; he wondered how much Crowley knew about him, if it was a cruel joke about the ice armour he used to have.

 

“What about you? You any good with a sword?” Castiel couldn’t help the flush of pride he felt before answering Dean’s question. “The two handed sword was my preferred weapon, closely followed by the long bow. I excelled with both, necessary for the different positions I had to take on the battlefield.”

 

Dean scowled at him, “Alright, show off.”

 

Castiel smirked, an expression he had picked up from Dean. Sam picked up one of his garments with distain, it was a black and red shirt with chains and demonic sigils sewn onto it. Dean laughed, “Why don’t you take it with us? Better than all that plaid you wear.”

 

Sam glared at Dean and muttered jerk as he pelted the shirt in Dean’s face.

“Alright,” Sam began, “I’m going to get things started.” Sam passed a rosary to Dean and the cross that Castiel had picked out. Dean nodded his thanks.

 

Then Dean brought his brother into a tight hug. Nothing was said between the brothers, only their arms tightened. Castiel looked away, it felt like a private moment he shouldn’t intrude upon. But after a moment Sam clapped a hand down onto his shoulder. “Good luck Cas. See you soon.”

 

“Thank you Sam.”

 

Castiel turned to watch Sam leave, he was worried for him, almost stepped forward to grab his wrist and tell him not to go. But he held himself back. Sam was his friend he was slowly beginning to realise but he was also a Hunter, strong and intelligent – he could look after himself.

 

Dean was beginning to strip, new clothes laid out on his cot. His outfit was a thick green shirt and chainmail that covered his torso. He had simple brown trousers and boots to finish the look. Compared to the gaudy costumes Sam and himself had been given, Castiel thought he was rather lucky.

 

Castiel began to strip too and that uncomfortable silence began to seep back into the room. Castiel had just finished taking off his coat and shirt when he heard Dean growl and throw down his chainmail. “Fuck I can’t stand this anymore.”

 

He strode up to the angel. “Just in case this all goes to Hell.” He reached out, cupping Castiel’s face and then kissed him. Castiel melted into it, pressing his naked chest against the soft fabric of Dean’s shirt. Dean pulled away, licking his lips as he did. “I lo-”

 

“Dean you don’t have to-“

 

“No, but I want to. Just in case anything happens I want you to know-“

 

Castiel cut him off with another kiss, this one lighter. Dean’s eyes were vivid green when he looked into them. “Nothing will happen if we stick to the plan.” Castiel assured him as he stroked a hand over the back of Dean’s neck. “This will all work out. I have faith.”

 

Dean snorted, “Hope your faith is enough for the three of us.”

 

“We have to finish getting dressed.” Castiel said as he took off his trousers, replacing them with the set of leg armour that he had been given. Soon he was dressed and just as he was finishing with the buckle to his breastplate he heard Dean speak again.

 

“I love you Cas.”

 

Castiel turned, throat dry and it clicked as he spoke. “You didn’t have to say it.” Dean shrugged, his donned chainmail shirt clinking as he did. “Yeah well, just in case.”

 

Castiel shook his head with a fond smile. “We should get going now if you’re ready.” Dean nodded and thrust his sword into the brown leather scabbard he’d been given. “Let’s rumble.”


	9. The Big Top

The night was bright, filled with hundreds of dots of light from strings of lightbulbs that hung like pearls between the tents. The air was alive with laughter and the sounds of bells and alarms as prizes were won. Dean walked through it all with Castiel, green eyes going to the rifle a small boy was holding as he shot the bull’s-eye on a wooden duck.

 

“There’s a lot of young kids…innocent people here that could get hurt if things go wrong. What if the Kelpie can’t gank the Wendigo?”

 

“A Wendigo stands no chance against a Kelpie and we have bought its allegiance with the promise of freedom. Kelpie’s are honorable creatures, it will keep its word.” Castiel assured him. If the Kelpie could not kill the Wendigo, then he would.

 

Dean sighed, hand on the hilt of his sword. Castiel watched as his grip tightened on it. “Try not to worry.”

 

Dean snorted and pointed down the wide path they were heading down. At the end of it was the Big Top, candy stripes decorating the canvas and at its top was the snow globe. “That thing can fit at least a thousand people. And we’re going to be right in front of them.”

 

Castiel paused, smirking at Dean. Anything to prolong the time before going into the Big Top. “You get stage fright. Don’t you?” Dean sent a glare Castiel’s way, walking past him. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

The crowd was thick when they got closer, lines snaking along the girth of the Big Top as patrons bought tickets to the show. There were signs set up, with a picture of an angel with black wings fighting against a demon. Others were of an angel fighting a human. Dean swallowed and glanced at Castiel. Castiel shrugged, he did not care anymore about how most humans perceived him. Dean knowing the truth about him was enough. Castiel walked away from the lights, towards the dark at the back of the Big Top where the performers entered. Normally there were many different types of creatures in cages or in chains, waiting to perform. But tonight it was just him and Dean as he walked past the security, careful not to look Gordon in the eye as he got backstage.

 

Dean wrinkled his nose as he stepped onto the floorboards, eyes blinking rapidly in the dark space. “Smells like saw dust and piss.”

 

“Saw dust is good for soaking up smells and moisture.” Castiel himself could also smell blood that had soaked into the floorboards. Beyond it he could smell the sugar of toffee apples and the salt of popcorn. It made his stomach turn, after tonight he would be free. One way or another.

 

“You know what to do once we get into the ring?” Castiel asked as he put his hands behind his back so he could squeeze them. His heart was racing.

 

Dean nodded and sat down on top of a crate. “Yeah. I hope Sam’s okay and that the plan’s going smoothly so far.”

 

Castiel didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t give Dean any guarantees; it was dangerous for all of them. Sam had to release the Kelpie and the Wendigo and then go after Crowley.

 

A bell rang to their right, a little silver thing whose innocuous sound signaled the start of the show. Dean looked to Castiel for confirmation and the angel nodded at him. Castiel took a deep breath, chest plate shifting as he held out a hand for Dean. Dean took his hand, fingertips resting on Castiel’s wrist as he was pulled to his feet. Dean licked his lips, staring at Castiel’s face in the dark of backstage. “So this is it.”

 

It didn’t matter now if they were caught so Castiel let Dean kiss him, parting his lips for Dean’s tongue. Dean’s hands found his hips, grip tight like he never wanted to let go. The kiss was slow and low burning, it felt like a goodbye. When their lips parted Castiel stared into the depths of Dean’s jade green eyes.

 

Then they parted; Dean’s hands slipping from his hips and Castiel mourned the loss of them. They stood side by side as they strode out and into the brilliant lights of the stage.

 

As his eyes adjusted Castiel could see that it was a packed show, the crowd from outside was gathered here, crammed in to create a sweltering mass.

 

Castiel nodded at Dean, a look passing between them. Dean was deathly pale, his normally golden complexion waxen. Castiel could hardly blame him. Mist swirled around their ankles and polystyrene boulders poked from out of it. The backdrop Castiel saw in the corner of his eye was a large grass plain sat alight with fire. It was an eerily similar landscape to when the angelic hordes had fought off Lucifer. Castiel withdrew his sword with a hiss and was startled by a roar behind him. He twisted to look at the source, it was a black eyed Rugaru that gnashed its teeth together when it saw him. Its arms flexed against the wooden cross it was strapped to. All to add to the atmosphere Castiel supposed.

 

From the shadows came a booming voice, “Tonight we have a very special show for you folks. Here we have Sam-.” The voice dropped off for a moment as Sam’s absence was noted. Castiel scanned the audience and found Crowley in one of the front row seats; he was wearing one of his tailored black suits and dark crimson tie. There was a frown on his face and Castiel saw him reach into his breast pocket and retrieve his cell phone. He listened carefully, barely hearing the words over the announcer clearing his throat.

 

Dean stepped up to him, sword raised, as if eager to fight. “What’s Crowley doing?” Dean asked as he too glanced over at the demon. Castiel squinted at the demon. “He’s ordering Gordon to find Sam and bring him here. He thinks he’s too frightened to come.”

 

Dean sighed with relief, shoulders sagging under his heavy chainmail shirt. “That’s good, don’t want him to think we’re up to something.”

 

Dean stepped back again, adopting a cocky grin and raising his sword as the announcer’s voice picked back up again.

 

“Sorry folks, I meant Dean Winchester, the amazing healing warrior!”  
At the mention of his name Dean turned to the audience, Castiel watched with trepidation as Dean began to follow the script. He drew his sword across the soft flesh of his arm, drawing blood. He raised his arm up to show the audience the deep ugly cut where blood ran down his arm far too quickly for Castiel’s liking. The crowd gasped. Then, an intense stage light was moved so that it shone on the cut and in a matter of seconds the cut had healed and the blood stopped. Dean sheathed his sword and used his other hand to wipe away the blood.

 

The crowd was delighted, they whooped and cheered and cried Dean’s name. The tops of Dean’s ears flushed and he shook as he withdrew his sword again.

 

“And for Dean’s adversary today we have Castiel, the Seraph angel!”

 

For Castiel there were boos and hisses. He had never had a reception like this before, every other audience he had had was a small and intimate one and he usually inspired awe not ire. Still he played along, flexing his wings and shaking his sword at the audience. He grit his teeth. It stung to know that he had shed blood and lost siblings to protect these people’s ancestors from monsters, demons and Lucifer himself.

 

Castiel wiped it from his mind. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. He spread his legs slightly, getting into his fighting stance. He went side on to Dean and raised his other hand. In that hand he opened his fingers, creating a ball of white light in it. He felt his Grace begin to sing with the strain.

 

Dean used both hands on his sword and faced him front on. The lights dimmed around them and the Rugaru howled. Castiel was the first to move, he threw the ball of light and Dean hit it with his sword, splitting it in half and sending thousands of white sparks scattering around him.

 

Dean snarled and arched his sword down, just as the script had detailed. Castiel blocked the strike but staggered a bit. Dean was stronger than he thought. He brought up his free hand and summoned a gust of wind. The wind boomed and forced Dean backwards, almost knocking him off his feet.

 

All the while Castiel was vaguely aware of the crowd cheering. He didn’t dare to look at Crowley, though he intrinsically knew that the demon was wearing a smug smile.

 

Dean puffed, sweat shining on his forehead. On top of a rock to his left was a leather knife belt. Dean snatched it off the boulder, rolling to the side just in time to avoid another ball of light lobbed from Castiel. It exploded as it hit the ground and the sparks showered Dean. Castiel was filled with guilt as he saw Dean’s clothes sizzle and steam from the sparks. But he didn’t have too long to idly watch as two knives came at him with pinpoint accuracy. Castiel raised his hand again and stopped the knives in mid air. He didn’t notice the third and he felt it graze his cheek. Dean smirked at him cockily, and Castiel had to resist the urge to roll his eyes – that had not been part of the act.

 

So Castiel looked at the two knives that hovered before him and concentrated, he stared at the tips until they glowed red-hot. Dean blanched, taking a step back. The tips of the blades burst into blue and orange flames, which had the crowd gasping and booing at him.

 

With a flick of his wrist he sent them hurtling at Dean, he dodged one and used his sword to strike the other, creating more orange embers that danced along the silver edge of his blade.

 

This was the part that Castiel had been dreading. Castiel glanced at the audience, Crowley was still sitting there, calm and relaxed. They had to keep going, the plan hadn’t gotten into full swing yet as Crowley was still here.

 

Castiel darted forwards, wings wanting to flare in their chains. He closed in on Dean who raised his sword and stared him down. This felt too real, Castiel thought as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. The pain would be immense for Dean. Castiel raised his sword high as a chill swept through the expanse of the Big Top. Ice began to crawl up his sword, he could hear the metal groan and creak as the ice invaded it, made it sharper, colder and more menacing.

 

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes. The Hunter smiled. Castiel began to move, lowering his sword feinting to left as the script dictated before striking upwards, driving the point of the icy sword through Dean’s shoulder.

 

Dean let out a howl of agony, as he crumbled to his knees. Castiel stood over Dean with his hand still on the sword hilt, he felt sick and dizzy as blood bubbled from the cut and stained his sword red. He had been careful not to hit anything important, but it was clear Dean was in pain.

 

“Son of a bitch.” Dean bit out, quiet enough for only Castiel to hear him.

“I’m so sorry Dean.” Castiel whispered as he drew out the sword. Dean grunted as the sword left him, wobbling on his knees. Dean’s breath was a plume before his lips as he breathed in the chilled air. He used his sword as a crutch to stand, shaking, more blood flowing so that it soaked his side and collected at the waistband of his brown trousers.

 

He turned his body to face the audience, lips parted as he breathed through the pain. It took a moment before the healing process began to kick in but when it did some of the audience screamed with horror and others cheered wildly. Dean’s flesh was knitting back together, as though pulled by some invisible hands. The dark flesh was the first to meld back together but as it did fresh torrents of blood was forced out and Castiel could clearly smell Dean’s blood. It smelt slightly of an angel’s. Dean’s necklace was glowing bright at his throat as it worked hard to heal him and Dean was shaking, eyelashes fluttering.

 

Castiel could feel his soul shuddering as it was sapped to fuel the grievous injury. For one horrid moment Castiel felt the bright soul begin to crack and splinter. Castiel moved forwards, reaching out for him, he would heal him before he destroyed himself. Dean turned to face him, lips quirking into a smile.

 

How could he smile at a time like this? Dean would feel his soul beginning to buckle, being ripped from him by the necklace.

 

“It’s okay Cas.” As he spoke Castiel once more felt Dean’s soul and just as it was about to split in two he felt it burn brighter, hot and radiant like a newborn star. Castiel shuddered with relief, almost dropping to his knees.

 

The cut finished healing and Dean turned once more to Castiel. But Castiel began to shake his head, lowering his sword; he couldn’t do this anymore, hurt Dean again and risk him losing his soul. The price was too great. It didn’t matter that Crowley was watching, that there were a thousand people’s eyes upon him, he would not betray Dean again. He dropped his sword and a hush went over the crowd.

 

Dean stepped up to him, “What are you doing Cas?” He hissed, “Keep going, Sam needs more time.”

 

Castiel shook his head, a hand at his own throat. “I can’t.”

 

Dean looked over to Crowley, wide-eyed. He saw that he had his phone out again and was speaking into it, brow furrowed.

 

Castiel followed his gaze and let out a sigh of relief, Sam had worked quickly. Now he wouldn’t have to hurt Dean again, not ever. He felt joy radiant and buoyant swell inside of him, he felt tears burning at his eyes. This was over. He created a bolt of blue lightning that curled around his wrist like a serpent. In the corner of his eye he saw Crowley stand and shove his way past the other spectators, expression furious. It sent a pleasured thrill through the angel. He pointed his arm at Dean where the bolt sizzled; the lightning was pure show, just like the rest of this place. He shot it at Dean and saw it hit his chest. It did nothing to him, only made him close his eyes.

 

Instead the lights went out in the Big Top, plunging everyone into complete and utter darkness. People shrieked with surprise and children wailed.

 

Castiel could see in the blackness and he drew Dean into an embrace, hugging him tight against his metal armour. “I’m so sorry.” Dean struggled against him for a moment, “You already said that, it’s fine, it ain’t your fault.” Castiel only held him tighter and with a pleasured sigh Dean melted into the embrace.

 

Castiel rested his head on Dean’s shoulders, wings vibrating with anxiety. “I won’t ever hurt you again.” He promised as he ignored the shouts of people around him, confused by the black out. Dean’s lips pressed warm and firm against his forehead.

 

“Let’s get out of here and teach Crowley a lesson.”


	10. The Great Escape

Outside of the Big Top it was compete chaos. Dean stepped over the shattered glass of an upturned popcorn machine as he watched people running around panicked. The Kelpie was loose but amidst the madness the sea horse itself was calm. It trotted past them head raised to scent the air. It looked completely different out of the water, its skin had turned onyx, its seaweed like mane and tail had dried and floated in the air like dead leaves.

Castiel watched it as it passed them. Judging from its direction it was tracking the Wendigo directly to Crowley’s tent. If Crowley was in his tent, as he was supposed to be to organize The Menagerie’s crew then the plan was going swimmingly.

The Kelpie then seemed to find the scent, it reared up onto its hind legs and galloped off, parting a group of people as it went. Castiel felt Dean grip his wrist. “We should get moving.”

Castiel looked down at Dean’s hand with a quirked eyebrow and he smiled faintly. “You can hold onto my hand if you want.” Dean blushed and let go immediately as if he hadn’t realised he had done it in the first place. “I’m good, I was just feeling a little light headed from the healing.”

Castiel shrugged, “Well I don’t want you to fall over.” That said Castiel grabbed Dean’s hand and this time Dean didn’t blush. Hand in hand they began to run after the Kelpie. Castiel dodged around people, and jumped over a giant white teddy bear that had been dropped as he held onto Dean. He stopped when he saw Crowley’s tent. The Wendigo’s metal box was on its side, the door wide open. Near to it was the creature itself, it looked startled and it was trying to cover its eyes from the bright lights that typified The Menagerie. The lights however didn’t bother the Kelpie as it moved in for the kill. Long strands of thick saliva dripped from its maw as it parted its mouth to bare its needle like teeth. Castiel and Dean gave the creatures a wide berth and for a small moment the Kelpie watched them as though protective of its imminent kill. Castiel wanted to arch his wings instinctively to warn the Kelpie off Dean but was once more stopped by his chains. Instead he entered the tent with Dean close at his back. As soon as they entered Dean slipped his hand free from his.

Sam was in front of them, a huge grin on his face and he stepped aside to show Crowley bound to a chair. A devil’s trap had been painted on the floor and at the entrance Castiel noticed the devil’s shoestring had been hidden under the rug. Gordon and Kubrick were out cold on the floor nearby, ropes binding their hands and feet.

Dean whistled, “I’m impressed.”

Sam shrugged, “Well the devil’s shoestring had Crowley at a loss, which gave me time to take out Gordon and Kubrick.” 

“You’re looking a little peachy Dean. Not feeling very well?” Crowley murmured, smugly the ropes that bound him to his chair. Sam looked closer at his brother, “He’s right Dean. What’s wrong?”

Castiel stepped over to Dean and laid his palm over his forehead, it was tepid and sweaty. Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated. He had thought the danger had passed, that Dean’s soul had fought back against the crystal charm on his throat. But as he reached out with his Grace and gently brushed it against Dean’s soul he felt it splinter and crack despite it being the softest of touches. 

He heard Dean whimper and suck in a breath. Castiel withdrew as though he had been burned. “Dean.” He whispered in horror, as he stared into the human’s glassy eyes. “Guess I used too much and I was warned the longer I wore it the worse it would be.” Dean closed his eyes for a moment, “Just give me a second.” Sam dragged over a chair that Dean sunk into with a grateful but weary sigh.

“The quicker we get out of here, the sooner we can get that thing off Dean.” Sam said as he turned back around to regard Crowley. The demon smirked, “What are you going to do, torture me? Darling, you just aren’t qualified.”

Castiel pressed his lips into a thin line and gently pushed Sam aside. He looked down at the demon as he began to roll up his sleeve. “I’ll try not to enjoy this.” He deadpanned as Crowley’s eyes widened with fear.

“You haven’t got it in you.” Crowley snarled out as he jerked against his restraints.

Castiel huffed and then plunged his arm deep into Crowley’s chest. The demon howled in agony as Castiel splayed his fingers. His hand burrowed further and further into the dark smoky recesses of Crowley’s soul. It felt cold and slimy, like a rotten apple. 

Castiel tried to keep his disgust at bay as the pain inside his Grace began to grow. The spells on him were reacting to harming his master; it made the roots of his wings being to shrivel, threatening to sever his wings. Castiel could feel blood on his back. Castiel closed his eyes for a moment and then spoke. He felt himself slip into Enochian, “Crowley,” He spoke voice shaking the earth in a tremor, “Open the safe. Release us.”

Crowley’s eyes flashed red and he snarled, tongue twisting around the demonic version of Enochian that demons had been given by Lucifer. “And have you kill me afterwards?”

Castiel opened his eyes, blue eyes blazing with burning ice, colder than anything mankind could imagine. “I can kill you now. Slowly, if you would prefer.”

Crowley laughed, spreading the smell of sulfur as he finally revealed his true demonic nature to its fullest. “Then where would you be? Dean will lose his soul and both you and Sam would both still be bound to The Menagerie.” Crowley’s voice buzzed like locusts in Castiel’s ears and he winced. 

He twisted his hand inside of Crowley and the demon wailed again. “I give you my word that if you release us and do not bother us again, I will not kill you.” Crowley stared at him and Castiel stared back into the yawning vermillion chasm of his eyes. 

“Deal. Now stop fisting me.”  
Castiel took his hand out of Crowley’s chest and staggered back; the bones of his wings were cracking like fragile pottery. He was on the brink of losing them again. Castiel reached for the bindings that held Crowley.

“Cas?” Dean asked, eyes widening. “What are you doing?”

Castiel glanced at Dean over his shoulder, felt panic clutch at him as he could see Dean’s soul slowly dying in his eyes. “Crowley has agreed to release us. He is a Cross Roads demon, he cannot go back on his word.”

Crowley sighed and slumped back in his seat, “Can we get on with this already?” Sam stepped in and undid the ropes. With a dramatic sigh of relief Crowley stood up but winced as he did. 

“I hope that hurt you too you stupid overgrown bird.” 

“Hey.” Dean barked out, sending a glare over at Crowley. Sam sighed and pushed Crowley towards the safe. As Sam and Crowley stood at the safe Castiel went and knelt at Dean’s side. He took the human’s hand in his so he could feel the ebb and flow of his soul as it tried to resist the siren call of the charm.

Dean was boneless in his seat, a fever burned at his cheeks. But with Castiel there he sat up. “You okay?” Dean leaned his head around and saw the blood that was running down Castiel’s side. “Cas?”

Castiel raised Dean’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. He could not care about himself when Dean was dying right in front of him. The body would remain but the thing that he loved was his soul, his personality, the bright light that he emitted. Castiel bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Please hold on a little longer Dean.” 

Dean smiled down at him. “I will, I’m stubborn.”  
Castiel laughed against Dean’s hand as he brushed his lips across a scar. “Yes, I know.”

Castiel startled when he felt a prod at his shoulder, it was Crowley holding the silver key to their cuffs. “You really have fallen in every way imaginable haven’t you Castiel? This human’s stench is all over you.” 

Castiel felt his Heavenly wrath press against the front of his skull; it urged him to purge his demon. But he remained true to his word as he obediently held out his wrists for Crowley to release him of his silver cuffs. Sam stood beside Crowley; already rubbing at his bruised wrists were his own cuffs had been. 

Then there was a click and Castiel looked down at his own arms. The first cuff had been released and fell to the floor with a metallic thud. Then Crowley made for the second cuff and that one too fell from him. Castiel closed his eyes and held his wrists up. They felt so light after decades of wearing those metal bands, and now all of a sudden they were gone. Crowley then walked around him and Castiel jerked when he felt the demon’s hands on his wings. “Crowley!” He thundered as he made to turn around but the demon only gripped his wings tighter. “You want these chains off too don’t you? I’m the only one that can remove them you prat.”

Castiel bit the inside of his cheek. Demons on the battlefield had always gone for an angel’s wings, hurting them in the worst way possible. Castiel felt every movement of Crowley’s fingers as he removed the chains, every brush of his fingernails on his feathers. But soon he could feel his Grace returning to its full strength, it filled every inch of himself as more and more of the chain was removed. Soon Castiel was panting, he felt like a cup that was about to become overfull, that his very essence was going to spill free. He began to sag and Sam came to him, holding him up by his shoulders. He could vaguely hear Dean asking something.

It had been so long since he had full access to his powers and now all of a sudden it was coming back all at once. Castiel groaned, eyes fluttering as he tried to keep his powers in check. Then he felt a great tug and he gasped, eyes widening and burning with his Grace as the chains were finally pulled away from inside of him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Crowley standing there, the chains had become clouds of black smoke.

Castiel sank down onto his knees and concentrated on reining in his powers. He looked inside of himself, saw the blue ice of his Grace growing and growing at an exceptional rate. He soothed it and calmed it, channeled his Grace to healing parts of himself that had been broken during his imprisonment at The Menagerie. 

After a few more moments Castiel’s eyes flickered open, Dean was kneeling in front of him surrounded by long grass and flowers. Castiel tilted his head with confusion. 

“This all started growing through the carpets when you knelt down. Crowley’s pissed about it.”

Castiel smiled tiredly and took Dean’s hands; he smoothed his thumbs over the reddened skin where the cuffs had been. Dean stood and tugged Castiel back onto his feet. “Come on, let’s go. Crowley’s just left, clicked his fingers and vanished. So I’d rather not stick around.”

Castiel nodded and slowly walked from out of the tent. Dean was similarly tired and now it was easier to see how his soul still fought tooth and nail against the cursed charm - a golden light being sucked into a black hole.

Sam wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulder and glanced towards Castiel, but Castiel shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Make sure your brother is safe.” Sam nodded and Dean sagged into his brother’s grip.

Castiel walked after them, hoping that the Kelpie would still be there to help them. He sighed with relief when he saw the Kelpie on the ground, sharp teeth crunching through a femur. Other pieces of the Wendigo lay scattered about in glistening wet clumps of meat and blood. If it was at all possible Dean seemed to get even paler. 

Castiel crouched down in front of the Kelpie but it tossed its head up, eyes wide and wild. Castiel tried to touch the Kelpie’s mind but the creature just bared its bloodied teeth, it did not want to leave its kill.

“Shit.” Sam cursed to Castiel’s left. “It won’t help? Can you…can you fly us out of here?”

Castiel tried to stretch out his wings but he bit back a gasp. “I can’t…they have been tied for too long, they need time to recover.”

Castiel turned his head to look at Dean, he couldn’t let this end here. Not when they had gotten so far. Castiel lunged at the Kelpie, ice burning at his fingertips as he went for its throat. The Kelpie recoiled and tried to stand. But Castiel dragged it back down to the ground, wings flaring out slightly with a painful twinge.

“You gave us your word! I’ll freeze you alive damned creature.” He bit out in fevered Enochian. The old language seemed to drag the Kelpie out of its blood frenzy and it calmed long enough for Castiel to release its throat. His fingers parted from its skin with an icy crackle.

There were people headed towards them and Sam dug out a pair of glasses from his pocket. Dean laughed airily, “I didn’t know you had to wear glasses.”

“That’s not what these are.” Sam replied as he put them on. Through the glass he could see the people for what they truly were; three demons with shining black eyes and twisted faces walked towards them. Sam balked, heart racing, “Cas, hurry, three demons twelve o’clock.”

Sam took off his glasses and Dean took them from him, “I’ll keep them safe.”

Castiel stroked his hand over the Kelpie’s neck and healed the ice burn. “Please.” The Kelpie got to its feet and pawed at the ground, tail flicking, and then slowly it lowered its head in obedience. Castiel gestured for Sam, “Get on.”

Sam hurried forwards and at the same time the demons began to run towards them. Sam helped Dean up onto the Kelpie’s back before clambering on himself, sitting on the rump. Without a moment’s hesitation Castiel took the front of the Kelpie, practically sitting on the creature’s long neck. 

“Hold on.” Castiel urged as the Kelpie jumped forwards, going quickly from a fast trot into a gallop. Castiel felt Dean’s arms wrap themselves about his waist and Castiel reached down to hold onto his hand. “I’ve got you.”

The Kelpie raced onwards, fleeing through the darkening night.

 

+++

Castiel did not know exactly how long had passed before the Kelpie finally stopped at the lip of a quiet river. Sweat foamed on its sides as it panted. Castiel got off first and helped Dean down who grumbled that his ass had never been so sore. Sam was the last off and as soon as he was the Kelpie moved into the water.

“Thank you.” Dean said to the Kelpie, just as the water lapped at its knees. The Kelpie looked back to him and blinked twice, then lowered its head in recognition. Then with a great swell and splash of water it dove under the inky surface.

“Just don’t eat anyone or I’ll gank your ass!” Dean added as he put his weight on Castiel. The angel sighed and put his arm around Dean’s back, holding his over warm body to his. 

“I’ll see if I can find a car to steal.” Sam murmured as he began to walk up the grassy bank and towards the bitumen road.

Castiel sat down on the grass and brought Dean down with him. They sat there quietly at first. Then Castiel unfolded his wing slightly, using it to hold Dean up and protect him from the cold night air. “We’re out.” Dean whispered to him.

Castiel bit his lip as he felt tears burn at his eyes. “Yes. We are.” Dean tugged him into a tight embrace, a hand on the back of his neck. With that the tears began to fall. After decades of pain and fear he was free, could spread his wings and fling himself across the Earth with a thought. But he was exactly where he wanted to be, with Dean in his arms. “I love you Dean.” He whimpered through his tears as he buried his face in the side of Dean’s neck.

“I love you too Cas.”

Dean held him and Castiel wrapped his wings around them as the lake lapped against the shore.


	11. Goodbye?

They were in a crappy beat down motel. Or, that was how Dean had described it when they had pulled up in the car Sam had hot-wired for them. Dean had insisted on _two_ rooms in the aforementioned crappy beat down motel.

 

Dean was fast asleep next to him, only in his boxer briefs with a thin sheet pushed down to his waist. Castiel lay on his side and rested his head on his hand. He had his wings stretched out over Dean. He had to hide them briefly to enter the motel but now in the privacy of the room he reveled in being able to spread all of his long dark feathers, even if it still ached to do so.

 

Castiel leaned down to place a kiss on Dean’s freckled chest. The human shifted and grumbled at the contact before blinking awake. “Hey.” He said thickly, still half asleep.

 

“Hey.” Castiel mimicked.

 

Dean reached up and spread his fingers through the canopy of Castiel’s feathers that hung over him. “These are pretty neat.”

 

Castiel smiled. “Thank you.”

 

Dean turned over and reached down for his clothes. Castiel was just about to reprimand him, tell him that he needed to rest and not to agitate his fragile soul by moving around too much when Dean sat back up. In his palm was the pair of glasses Sam had worn before.

 

“I want to see you, all of you.” Dean said as he stared into his eyes. Castiel licked his chapped lips, “Are you sure? You…you might be scared, angels-“

 

Dean silenced him with a kiss, a lazy and relaxed one. Dean broke the kiss, smirking, “I’m not scared of you Cas. I don’t care if you’re a giant spider-worm hybrid.”

 

Castiel frowned, “That would be my sister Eremiel.”

 

The corners of Dean’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, “You’re getting better at telling jokes.”  
Castiel smiled back at him, close to laughter himself. He hadn’t been joking.

 

Then Dean put the glasses on and looked at him. He gasped, falling back in the bed.

 

It was half man half beast and it filled up the room. The torso was human but it wore armour that glistened, was transparent. It was ice Dean realised, a glacier melded to Castiel’s skin. Around him there were six black wings that crackled with frost and ice. Dean looked further upwards and saw Castiel’s many faces. There was a white bellied musk deer that stared down at him solemnly, next there was an albino jaguar’s head that had gleaming white fur and by that one was a bird’s head – a shimmering onyx magpie that parted its beak with a greeting. And at its centre was a man’s head. There didn’t seem to be any features to the man’s face, it was blank all expect for the blazing twin pits of sapphire that loomed above him. But Dean knew, could feel it inside of him, that this was Cas – _his Cas_.

 

“You’re beautiful.”

 

Castiel plucked the glasses from Dean’s nose with his long spindly, “Enough peeking.”

 

Dean shook his head, grinning widely. “I’ve never seen anything like that, you’re amazing.” Castiel was about to protest, say that Dean’s soul was righteous and more magnificent than any star he had seen when the human once more cut him off with a passionate kiss.

 

Castiel whimpered and let Dean push him down against the striped sheets. Dean was ravenous, kissing and licking into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel couldn’t do anything, he was boneless and happy, as he kissed Dean back. Eventually Dean stopped kissing him, and Castiel’s lips burned from it.

 

Dean’s pupils were wide with lust, a pink dusting around his collarbone. “I want you Cas.”

 

Castiel swallowed, “I would like that.” He replied back, lamely he thought. But Dean didn’t seem to care as he leaned down and kissed along Castiel’s neck and suckled on his pulse point.

 

Castiel moaned and tossed his head to the side to give Dean more room to work. It was hard to concentrate but he managed it as he conjured a bottle of lube into his hand.

 

“Dean…”

 

Dean stopped suckling the bruise he had made on Castiel’s neck to look at him and his gaze fell onto the lube in Castiel’s hand.

 

“Where’d you get that?”

 

Castiel laughed, “Angel mojo.”

 

Dean shook his head and took the clear bottle of lube from him and he briefly turned his attention to his collarbone, nibbling at it. “I like the perks of dating an angel. Free and instant lube.”

 

Castiel huffed and canted his hips up, grinding his hard cock against Dean’s. “Dean, stop talking.”

 

Dean bit down on Castiel’s collarbone, which made the angel hiss with the little spark of pain – but that contrast to the mounting pleasure made his cock twitch. Dean leaned back and sat up, he clicked open the bottle of lube and drizzled his fingers with the thick sticky substance.

 

Castiel was desperate for it; he felt as though he was burning up from the inside, that every nerve was frayed with _want_. He lifted his hips up off the mattress in order to take off his underwear and he breathed out a relieved sigh when his cock hit the cool air.

 

Dean moved down, used his dry hand to gently push apart Castiel’s thighs. “You want this darlin’?”

 

Castiel nodded and sucked his lower lip into his mouth. “Yes, Dean, please.”

 

Dean rubbed his lubed fingers together to warm it and Castiel watched transfixed as the lube ran down to his wrist and glistened under the low light of the motel lamp. Then Dean’s fingers were moving but his bright green eyes remained fixed on Castiel’s face. Castiel gasped, fingers curling in the sheets as he felt the press of slicked fingers against his entrance.

 

Dean bit his lip and hummed with pleasure, as he circled Castiel’s puckered flesh. Castiel nodded, “Keep going.”

 

A finger breached him, slowly and gently. It wasn’t so bad, Castiel thought this was supposed to burn and be unpleasant. But Dean was being so careful with him, was treating him like something precious – a treasure.

 

Castiel whimpered at the thought and pushed down on Dean’s finger. Taking it as permission, Dean added another finger and it easily slipped in. Slowly, with measured movements, Dean fucked his two fingers in and out of Castiel, which created the lewd slick sound that only made Castiel’s breath come out shorter.

 

Castiel stared at Dean, eyes tracking down his body. Dean wasn’t unaffected, his black briefs showed the outline of his hard cock and where the head lay against the fabric there was a wet spot.

 

“Fuck Cas…” Dean murmured as he leant over the angel, gently moving his fingers as he suckled at one of Castiel’s nipples, tongue darting out to lick at the mole beside it. “More…” Castiel murmured, as his eyelashes fluttered closed. Dean obeyed him and added another finger. This one hurt but it was that pleasant kind of burn that Castiel didn’t mind. The angel hummed and pushed down against Dean, catching onto the rhythm that Dean was setting.

 

Then, Dean crooked his fingers. Pleasure ricocheted down Castiel’s spine and he arched off the bed, lips parted with a silent scream. Dean groaned as he watched Castiel’s face and he kept pressing his fingers against that spot inside of the angel.

 

Castiel reached out, pressed his palm against Dean’s hot cock. “Now…” He breathed out breathlessly, he wanted to feel and have everything Dean would give him. To know everything there was about him and experience everything he could with him.

 

Dean’s fingers slipped free and Castiel felt warm lube trickle down the crack of his ass. Castiel sat up, dizzy with pleasure and tugged down Dean’s briefs. As the Hunter’s cock was freed he leaned down to kiss and mouth at it, as though desperate for the taste. Dean shivered and carded his fingers, still wet with lube, through Castiel’s hair but the angel didn’t care, not even a bit.

 

“Cas, I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

 

Castiel removed his mouth and licked his lips, as though savoring the final tastes of Dean’s cock. “O-okay.”

 

Castiel laid back down against the bed and spread his legs in open invitation. Dean moved in between them and poured more lube over his cock, fisting it to spread and warm it over his cock. As Castiel felt the head of Dean’s cock at his entrance he grit his teeth together as he tried to hold back a loud moan.

 

But when the slicked head of Dean’s cock breached him he couldn’t help it, he moaned and writhed against the sheets. Dean lightly pushed forwards and he watched as his cock disappeared into the tight heat of Castiel’s body. Castiel lifted his hips off the bed again and pushed down on Dean’s cock. Dean grunted with pleasure as he felt himself become fully sheathed.

 

Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, tugging him in for another kiss. As they kissed Dean started up a rhythm, shallow little thrusts that punched gasps out of Castiel. Dean pushed Castiel back down and then tracked his hands along Castiel’s sides and to his hips, holding the angel in place as he began to pick up speed.

 

There was the slick sound of the lube and the sound of their pants as Dean fucked into Castiel’s body. Castiel was delirious with lust, begging and asking Dean for more and more and more, as he felt the head of Dean’s cock tug against his rim as he nearly pulled out completely. Then, he slammed back into his body with a slap.

 

Castiel could feel the knot of tension in his belly begin to grow tighter, his mind became blank with the mounting pressure inside of him – he needed to come. “Dean…touch me, please.”

 

Dean smiled as he panted and reached for Castiel’s flushed cock, it was arched up to his belly and the head was leaking copious amounts of precome on his belly. Dean’s hand took up the same pace as the movements of his own thrusts, the headboard smacked against the wall as the pace increased. Castiel forced his eyes open to watch Dean’s face, sweat running over the side of his face and lips reddened from their kissing.

 

The rough jerks on his cock were _nearly_ enough. He was so close to coming, so, so close. Angling his hips just right Dean thrust and hit that spot inside of him.

 

An ancient word of Enochian flew unhindered from Castiel’s lips as he came, cock jerking in Dean’s hand as come spurted from his cock, painting his own chest and Dean’s hand.

 

Dean let go of his cock and Castiel collapsed back onto the bed and felt a final few thrusts from Dean until a warm pleasant feeling filled him. Dean’s shout was coarse as though torn from deep inside of him.

 

With another groan Dean pulled out of Castiel and he felt his come trickle down his thighs. Dean flopped down next to him; chest rising and falling rapidly and he stretched out an arm and tugged Castiel’s body next to his.

 

Castiel ached in all the right places, he felt good – better than that. He hadn’t felt this good…ever. Dean seemed to see something in his eyes because he stared at him from across the pillow.

 

“You okay?” Dean asked, but he’s smiling as if he already knows the answer but simply wants to ask.

 

Castiel nodded, hair whispering against the cotton. “Better than okay.”

 

Dean stroked a hand over the side of his face, where the long strands of dark hair had began to curl about his ears.

 

This, right here, is Heaven.

 

+++

 

Sam had bought them new clothes, after all they couldn’t go wandering about town in chainmail and armour. Dean shrugged into his clothes easily, as if wearing second hand clothes was like slipping into a second skin.

 

But Castiel stood half naked in his jeans as he held out the faded Led Zeppelin shirt in front of himself. “This…I miss my trench coat.”

 

Dean scoffed and took the shirt from his hands and forced Castiel’s head through the hole, messing up his perpetually tousled hair further. “That trench coat was awful Cas. You looked like an accountant, or a hobo.”

 

Castiel scowled as he took the black leather coat he was offered as Dean put his own olive green jacket on. “Just be grateful it isn’t plaid, Sam’s got the hots for that stuff.” Dean paused as he regarded Castiel in his jeans and jacket, he nodded approvingly. “It’s weird seeing you without your wings.”

 

Castiel on the other hand merely shrugged. Dean stepped over and kissed the corner of Castiel’s mouth, a smile on his own lips. “C’mon, Sam’s gonna be mad at us for keeping him waiting.”

 

Sam was outside their motel room door with his arms crossed over his chest. Dean just smirked at him whilst Castiel murmured an apology. Dean sighed dramatically at the sight of their stolen car, an old beat up white Mitsubishi. “I miss my baby.” Castiel arched an eyebrow, “Your car? Where did you leave it?”

 

“It should still be parked in the garage in the house back in Lawrence.”

 

With that Castiel disappeared, heralded by wings beats. Dean’s heart jumped in his chest and he looked around. “Did he just beam away?”

 

Then there was a groan of metal and the Impala appeared in a spare parking space alongside the Mitsubishi. “Cas! What the hell? We’re trying to keep a low profile.”

 

The angel huffed, “No one was watching Dean.”

 

“You’re like an old married couple.” Sam groused as he walked towards the back door. Dean drew out his keys from his pocket and went to the driver’s side door with a huge grin on his face. “Thanks Cas.” He said as he unlocked the car and the door swung open with its distinctive creak.

 

Castiel smiled and took shotgun. The doors slammed shut and the Impala rolled out of the parking spot and onto the highway. “This is like starting out new. We’ve all got nothing, just baby here.” Dean said as he rubbed his hand affectionately over the dashboard of the car. Castiel looked into the rearview mirror to see Sam smiling. “I can always go back to your house and pick up some things.”

 

Dean shook his head, “Nah, I like this better. Anything you want Cas to zap back for you Sammy?”

 

“Nope. Got everything I need in that duffel you brought into The Menagerie that I managed to grab. There’s nothing back there for me anymore.”

 

Castiel leaned his forehead against the window and watched as the yellow lines of the highway disappeared under them as the Impala tore up the road. “Where are we going?”

 

“We’ll stop at the first diner we come across for breakfast and we’ll decide there.” Castiel looked at Dean from the corner of his eyes, there was a subtle tightening of his grip on the steering wheel. Was Dean worried about something?

 

Before he could ask Dean leaned over and turned on the radio and the tunes of _Ramble On_ filtered though the dusty speakers.

 

After an hour Dean turned off into a gravel driveway, the Impala bouncing along the uneven terrain and up to the diner. It was a typical mom and pops diner, with several trucks and camper vans parked outside of it. Castiel stepped out and looked around him, resting a hand on the roof of the Impala. Dean slammed his door shut and along with Sam hurried for the front door. Castiel followed after them and took the booth on the opposite side of Dean. Dean’s face was hidden behind the menu and Castiel looked to Sam questioningly. But his brother seemed as puzzled as him.

 

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

 

Dean lowered the menu down onto the table. “In the heat of everything, I almost forgot.”

 

Castiel cocked his head to the side, “Forgot what?”

 

“The deal I made to get this damn necklace.” He supplied as he pointed to the faintly glowing gem at his throat. Dean’s soul was still struggling against its pull, but for the moment it was relatively stable.

 

Sam’s lips parted with a silent ‘o’ and he seemed to shrink back into the booth, somehow making his large frame look small and fragile.

 

“You made a deal?”

 

“Not with a demon. I reckon it was just a human…Sam, can you give us a minute.”

 

Sam nodded and left but he mouthed a silent sorry to Castiel that only made the twist in the angel’s gut grow tighter.

 

“Explain.” Castiel said coolly as he held his hands together under the table. This was what he had worried about right from the beginning, that Dean’s attempts at friendship had been nothing more than to use him. He thought he had discovered the truth, that it would be more useful to have an angel on his side than one against him, but it seemed he hadn’t quite got to he bottom of it. Now though, he was sure Dean loved him so he had that at least.

 

Dean’s fingers played with the edge of the menu, where the laminate was lifting from the paper. “I was walking down the road my house is on. Then this guy outta nowhere appeared before me. He said that he would give me this charm so I could get Sam out of The Menagerie in return…”

 

Castiel felt his heart skip a beat; he wanted to fly out of the diner before he heard anymore.

 

“…in return for getting you out as well. That was the deal. Otherwise, he wasn’t going to get this necklace off me.”

 

Dean finally dared to look up at the angel; the corners of his mouth were pinched downwards. “I’m sorry Cas, I should have said something sooner. There was never a good time to say it…and then I fell for you and I forgot about it.”

 

Castiel’s hands gripped tighter against one another under the coffee ringed table, absently he was aware of a waitress in a daffodil yellow uniform pouring him a cup of coffee.

 

“Cas?”

 

Once the waitress left Castiel shook his head, he couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes. He was afraid of what he might see in them. He felt betrayed, that Dean had used him as a bargaining chip – was going to sell him whenever the mysterious man found them. But Dean…Dean loved him.

 

“I need some time.” Castiel murmured before he disappeared, only the faint impression of him left in the soft red cushions of the booth.

 

Dean stumbled to stand up and he spun his head around, as if to catch a glimpse of the angel. “Cas…”

 

+++

 

They were in another crappy beat down motel. Except this time they ordered one room with two singles. Dean sat on the edge of his bed, shoelaces undone. The television was on and lent its mindless noise to the room. Sam was already in bed, back to him. But Dean knew he wasn’t asleep.

 

“You reckon he’s going to come back?” Dean asked, to no one in particular but it was Sam who chose to answer. “Yeah.”

 

Dean turned to face Sam as he heard his brother roll over in bed and look at him.

 

“Why would he?” Dean asked forlornly.

 

Sam rolled his eyes with annoyance, “Because it’s obvious that he loves you. He’s not going to let that necklace kill you.”

 

“Well, it won’t kill me. Just make me soulless.”

 

“Is there a difference?”

 

Dean shrugged and flopped back into bed. “Reckon he’ll be back tomorrow?”

 

“Go to sleep Dean.”

 

Dean stared at Sam’s back; he had more reason to worry than him. Castiel hadn’t healed him of his demon blood yet. But he couldn’t help the pang of loss and longing that struck his heart every time he thought about the angel.

 

Dean rolled onto his side and tucked the sheets of the bed up under his chin. An idea came to him, almost instinctive. He put his hands together in prayer and closed his eyes. Cas was an angel right? He’d hear him.

 

He prayed to Castiel, prayed that he would hear his prayer and not turn away. He said everything in his mind that he was afraid to say aloud. That he loved him, that he would never sell or give Castiel away – that it would be like losing a limb. He prayed so hard, it hurt his head.

 

Dean let go of his hands but kept his eyes closed for he felt the burn of tears under his eyelids.

 

+++

 

The prayer came to him, the first one in thousands of years. He had been sitting on that mountain top, where humanity’s course had truly began – where Lucifer had fallen into the Cage.

 

It was Dean’s voice that he heard. Castiel didn’t feel the rocks under his bones nor the wind that wound its way through his hair, he only felt Dean as though he were a physical presence beside him.

 

He flung himself away from the mountaintop, sent a pebble skipping down to the dusty plateau and straight into Dean’s dream.

 

Castiel gasped and instinctively flared his wings; he was back in The Menagerie. But the tents were old and twisted, most fallen over into sad heaps. Candy wrappers skirted around his shoes as the wind picked up. Castiel tucked his wings back into himself, this was only a dream he reminded himself.

 

He walked straight ahead, followed the golden thread that was so unmistakably _Dean_. As he got closer he saw a tent and from within it he could hear sobbing; a child’s plaintive heaving breaths.

 

Castiel stepped inside without hesitation. Now, he was in a motel room. Not the one he had stayed in with Dean, a different one with metallic flower wallpaper. There was a young boy, with a baby in a crib next to his bed.

 

The boy lifted his head and locked eyes with his.

 

“Dean.” Castiel murmured as he went to the boy’s side and sat beside him on the bed. “What’s wrong?”

 

Dean snuffled and wiped a hand over his nose. “An angel killed my mom and dad’s gone out Hunting.” Dean heaved a sob again and Castiel went to touch the tiny shoulder.

 

“Don’t. You’re one of them” He howled as he moved further up the bed, away from Castiel.

 

“I’m not like the one who killed your mother, remember. I’m Castiel, I’ve helped you.”

 

Dean shook his head, “No one helps me. I have to look after Sammy. Dad’s busy and doesn’t have time to think about me. There’s no one for me.”

 

Castiel shook his head and gently took the boy’s hand. “I am. I’m here for you. I’m sorry I left, I’m back now.”

 

As Castiel blinked the boy became the man he knew. Dean let out a shudder, “You’re back?”

 

Castiel carefully laid his hand on Dean’s face and turned him so that they could face each other. “I’m back.”

 

The dream world was ripped away and Castiel found himself lying on the sheets of another motel room and a sleepy but awake Dean watching him carefully.

 

“You really are back.”

 

Castiel was about to say yes, to laugh, he wasn’t quite sure – but he never found out as Dean threw his arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard. “Don’t leave me again.” He begged, “Not when I’ve fallen for you, you asshole.”

 

Castiel sighed happily. “I promise. I’ve fallen for you too, remember?”

 

+++

 

Castiel didn’t sleep exactly, angels don’t need sleep after all, but he hovered somewhere between that. Where he watched Dean’s peaceful face in the waking realm and guarded over him in the sleeping realm.

 

When he heard Sam shift in his sheets and sit up, he carefully slipped out from under Dean’s arms to greet him. “Hello Sam.”

 

Sam startled and whipped around, a smile breaking out across his lips when he saw Castiel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Cas.”

 

Castiel stood up, still dressed in his jeans and leather jacket.

 

“When did you get back?” Sam asked as he picked up his toiletry bag off the bedside table, ready to head into the bathroom. Castiel smiled, a shy sort of one, “Last night. Your brother prayed for me.”

 

Sam smiled back at him, “I didn’t know Dean prayed.”

 

“I don’t, Cas is being a dick.” Dean groused as he woke up, bleary eyed. “What time is it?”

 

“Ten past eight.” Sam replied, “Time to get moving again.”

 

Castiel stepped forward, “Before we do.” He shrugged out of his jacket and neatly folded it on the nearby pine table. “I would like to heal you Sam.”

 

Sam’s lips parted with an audible pop and he almost dropped his toiletries bag with the shock. “You up for it? I mean, you just got your mojo back and-“

 

Castiel held up a hand, “I am more than capable Sam. You may want to sit down though. Healing was never my forte but I am quite good at exorcism, both of which are required here.”

 

Sam nodded and sat down, a nervous sort of excitement thrumming through him . As Castiel was about to step over to the taller Winchester, Dean grabbed his wrist. “Be careful with him.”

 

Castiel cocked his head to the side, “Of course.” Dean’s fingers left his wrist, the tips of them trailing over his pulse point. Castiel stood over Sam and the Hunter looked up at him, hazel eyes alight with joy. “Ready?”

 

“Yeah, thanks Cas.”

 

Castiel put his hand to Sam’s forehead and closed his eyes. He looked inside of Sam and saw the taint in his blood, it had thinned, he could see – retreated to the depths of his soul. But it was still there, a dark veneer that clouded the radiant silver hue of his spirit. Castiel prodded and rubbed at the taint with his Grace, brushing it away like a thick layer of dust.

 

He heard Sam hiss in pain, but he couldn’t stop, not now. One final stroke of his Grace and Sam’s soul was clean and pure once more. Castiel stumbled back a step, hand falling off Sam’s temple. As soon as his hand had left Sam he fell limp onto the mattress and sweat soaked the collar of his shirt.

 

“Sam? Sam are you okay?!” Dean said, voice thick with anxiety as he moved over to Sam’s bed, hands on his shoulders. But Sam smiled up at Dean and gave him a thumbs up, “Peachy.”

 

Dean’s shoulders sagged with relief and then he turned his focus on Castiel, who was bent over double with his hands on his knees as he dragged in breaths. Castiel felt Dean’s hand on his arm, fingers encircling him and he felt the ring he had given him press into his skin. “You okay?”

 

“I’m fine Dean, it just took more out of me then I expected.” Dean hugged him again, forcing him to stand up straight. “Thank you. Thank you Cas.”

Castiel tucked his face into the crook where Dean’s neck met his shoulder and breathed in his familiar scent. “I keep my promises.” He murmured as he turned his face and kissed the side of Dean’s neck.

 

The bathroom door closed with a light click and Castiel moved his head to look at the closed door. “You’re brother is going to be okay now.”

 

Dean laughed and hugged him tighter against his chest, “Yeah, if we don’t make him sick with how touchy feely we are.”

 

Castiel lifted his head to gaze into Dean’s eyes. “He’ll live.”

 

+++

 

Soon, they were back at the diner but this time Dean and Sam were full of life, bright smiles and easy slaps and brotherly punches. The smiles were contagious as Castiel smiled as he took another sip of his coffee.

 

His order was set in front of him with a clink of porcelain. It was a burger and fries, with extra bacon. Castiel put down his coffee and reached for the cutlery at the side of his plate.

 

Dean shook his head, already chewing through his burger. “No, use your hands. No one uses a knife and fork to eat a burger, weirdo.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes and shrugged and then picked up the burger. He took a bite and moaned at the taste, which got an approving nod from Dean but a groan from Sam, who had a Greek salad in front of him. “Not another fast food junkie.” Sam said with a grimace.

 

Castiel jumped when he felt Dean’s hand under the table move up his thigh, “What can I say Sammy, Cas and I are compatible.”

 

Sam huffed but there was affection in it as he stabbed a cherry tomato.

 

“Yes, you two are.”

 

Castiel froze at the voice. It was familiar.

 

The whole diner was stuck, as though paused like a recording. A waitress was leaning over to pick up a dropped knife, a rotund truck diver was half way through the door and a glass hovered over the linoleum floor – dropped from a child’s hand.

 

Castiel dropped his burger onto his plate and pushed himself out of the booth the same time Sam and Dean did so.

 

The man was hooded once more and despite the bright sunshine of the day streaming in through the windows of the diner, no facial features were discernible. “Hello again Dean.” The man said as he raised his hand and clicked his fingers. Dean gasped as the necklace around his throat disappeared with a metallic hiss.

 

Castiel gazed at Dean, his soul burned bright and unhindered – so fierce that it hurt to look at it for too long, but he couldn’t help to do so like a moth attracted to an open flame. This was the dealmaker before him.

 

Castiel stepped forward, “What do you want from me?” He said without preamble, but the feeling of knowing the man prickled over the back of his neck.

 

“Cas no! Get out of here!” Dean shouted at him, eyes wide and swimming with tears. But Castiel shook his head, the power that radiated from the man was undeniable. There was nowhere he could run and even if he hid.

 

“It’s okay Dean.” Castiel said.

 

The man chuckled as he reached for his hood, “There is no need to be worried, I am here to bring you home.” The hood was lowered and Castiel fell to one knee in subservience.

 

“Michael.”

 

Michael smiled down at Castiel, “Stand Castiel, I told you this a millennia ago that you do not need to kneel before me.” Castiel stood back up, eyes wide with shock.

 

Dean and Sam looked to each other, in total and complete shock. “ _The_ Michael?” Sam asked eyebrows shooting upwards. “The archangel?”

 

Michael turned his stormy gaze onto the Winchesters, “Correct. And I am here to bring Castiel home. I could not retrieve him myself directly, as there is an arrangement that Heaven can no longer interfere with Earth. I picked you Dean because I knew you would get him out for me.”

 

Now, Michael looked back to Castiel and he held out his hand. “Are you ready to come home brother?”

 

Instinctively, Castiel looked to Dean. The human was pale and his hand was half raised, as though desperate to reach out to him. Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest, his Grace burned with the desire to see Heaven again, hear the Heavenly Host’s beautiful singing once more. But he stepped towards Dean and took his hand.

 

“No, I’m not. I would like to stay here on Earth.”

 

Michael tilted his head to the side, “You would stay here for him?”

 

Castiel gripped Dean’s hand tighter. “I would do anything for him.”

 

A strange look passed over Michael’s face. “So be it.”

 

The glass smashed against the floor and life rushed back into the diner. Dean bit his lip, “Cas…you didn’t have to.”

 

Castiel brushed his free hand over Dean’s freckled cheek. “No, but I wanted to.” He leaned in for a kiss, a sweet tender one that felt as though it would never end.


	12. Epilogue

The sun was rising on the horizon, bathing the Impala in soft pastel hues. It was going to be a warm day. He sat on the hood of the Impala with Dean at his side. Dean had a newspaper in his hand, the headline read: _THE MENAGERIE IS NO MORE: Creatures missing due to unknown vigilantes_.

 

Dean folded up the newspaper and dropped it down onto the hood. “We did good.”

 

Castiel’s wings slipped free from his back and he heard the feathers whisper over the metal of the Impala. “We did.”

 

Dean looked through the windscreen of the Impala and saw Sam fast asleep in the backseat. With the coast clear Dean cupped his palms over Castiel’s cheeks.

 

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment before Castiel angled his head and kissed Dean, tongue licking over his lips before they parted for him. Castiel moaned and pressed his hands onto Dean’s thighs and then he gasped when Dean nibbled along his lower lip.

 

“I love you Dean.” Castiel said as the feeling of those words resounded inside of him.

 

Dean smiled in the rising sun, face framed by the perfect backdrop of the orange canyon at their side. “I love you Cas.”

 

Castiel thought, that Heaven was nothing compared to this.

 


End file.
